


A Birthday Surprise

by Bethann, Minniemoggie



Series: Legendary Friendship [18]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Humor, Illustrated, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:38:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2041170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is Gimli's first birthday in the Undying Lands</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the notes at the beginning of "Legendary Friendship" which is the first story in this series in order to understand our alternate universe. You have to accept our a/u ideas for this story to make sense.

I cannot believe I have been so foolish as to forget. I stare at the calendar that sits upon my desk, a calendar I rarely bother to look at since we elves care little for counting the passage of time in hours and days. Indeed we very rarely bother with years either!

  
But I do not live with elves alone. My best friend and guardian, Gimli, also resides in our house here in the valley of the elms and it is by his efforts alone that I am now beginning to see Tol Eressëa as my home.

  
So my failure to keep abreast with dates is doubly shameful. His days here are numbered and each one should be celebrated but one date is of special significance: his birthday. Elves do not usually celebrate days of birth but begetting days, and even then we do not do so unless it is an anniversary of special significance once we have left elflinghood behind.

  
Gimli of course would be the first to insist that I have as yet not left elflinghood. He is right of course, but I am so near my majority as makes little difference so I no longer really note my own begetting days, but to forget Gimli’s birthday is unforgiveable.

  
Thank the Valar that my new seneschal insisted that I went through the accounts with him this morning. I was rather disgruntled when Fimbrethil cornered me at break of fast and pronounced that it was quarter day and that he needed my presence. While I do not deny that it is my responsibility to do so, it has never been my favourite occupation. I have always relied upon those in my service to do it for me for despite the very best efforts of my tutors I have not the least head for figures. I did try and inveigle Gimli into joining us but he pleaded other business and disappeared into the cellars, no doubt to check on the progress of his beer!  
But I am glad that he is not here now for he can read me like an open book and he would know I was dismayed and want to know the reason behind it. I do not dissemble very well. I think about that comment and reassess my words. The truth is that I lie very poorly and am invariably caught out if I attempt it.  
Fimbrethil sees that he has lost my attention-not that he had very much of it to begin with-stops going through the household expenditure and asks if something is amiss. I have to stop myself sighing at this, for it seems he too can see when I am uneasy about something.

  
I shake my head but the pursing of his lips tells me he does not believe me and since I am going to need his aid in my upcoming endeavours I admit that I have just received a shock.

  
“Is there a problem with the accounts?”

  
“No, I am sure there is not,” I hurry to reassure him, not that I would really know if there was. Mathematics as I said has never been my strong suit. My Adar’s chancellor said it was an inherited failing although my Adar always disputes that fact. That is something else I do not say to Fimbrethil either; instead I smile and tell him. “Rather it is that I have just been reminded of something I had failed to recall at the proper time and I must now make haste to put to things to rights. In less than a week it will be Gimli’s birthday.”  
Fimbrethil looks at me blankly, “Birthday Lord Legolas?”

  
I sometimes forget how ignorant the majority of elven kind is on the traditions and ways of mortal kind. Fimbrethil was born on the Lonely Isle and his exposure to mortals has been limited to the last few months as we began to prepare for our move into the newly completed west wing of our house. And really we have been so busy that I suspect that he has had little time to acquaint himself with Gimli Gloinson’s particular peculiarities, beyond his love of ale and pipe weed, never mind the birthday customs of dwarven society.

  
“Mortals celebrate the day of their birth annually,” I explain. I see another question hovering on his lips which is probably the word ‘why?’ so I answer that as well. “Perhaps it is because of their short life spans, they find it necessary to mark each year as it passes. There is usually a celebration and gifts, a rejoicing if you like of their life so far. Since this is the first time the date has come round since we have been here on Tol Eressëa I feel it is particularly important that we take time to see that Gimli’s tradition is upheld. He has given up so much to be here with me, I will not slight him by ignoring his special day. I am only grateful I remembered in time to be able to plan some sort of celebration. I am going to need the help of everyone here if we are to come up with anything appropriate.” I look at him anxiously, “You will not object to helping will you?”  
He is swift to reassure me, “Indeed not my lord. I, and I am sure all of the staff, will be anxious to do what we can to make Lord Gimli’s birth day special. You will have to instruct us in what is necessary however.”

  
I let out a breath of relief, “Of course,” I grin, “Our biggest problem will be in keeping our plans from Gimli’s notice. It is usual for any celebration to be a surprise and I do not think he has realized how close we are to his birthing day else I am certain he would have talked about it.”

  
Then I pause again because I begin to wonder if perhaps Gimli has kept quiet deliberately. It would be just like him to put his own pleasures in abeyance in his care of me.  
Fimbrethil is obviously thinking the same thing for he says, “Perhaps, or mayhap he is more concerned in seeing things settled here so that you may both begin to enjoy your new life. His main focus I think will always be on you my lord. He cares for you very much.”

  
“He does,” I answer, “I am fortunate indeed in having a friend such as Gimli.”

  
“If you will forgive me for saying so, he is more than a friend. I think Lord Legolas, from what I have observed and what Edelharn has told me, it is my belief that Lord Gimli stands as a father figure in your eyes.”

  
I am once again reminded that while they may know nothing about mortals, the elves around me are certainly not blind. It occurs to me to wonder how much they know of my relationship with Gimli. I trust not too much since that would be truly mortifying. Gimli is very careful of my dignity and would never take me to task within sight or hearing of others but if Fimbrethil has already sensed that much about us it will not be long before the true state of affairs becomes known.

  
My continuing silence seems to worry Fimbrethil for he says, “I meant no offence my lord. It was merely an observation.”

  
He looks as if he regrets his words and is concerned how I will react, but I will not worry him just so I can hide what is a truth when all is said and done.

  
“Peace, Fimbrethil. I am not offended. You are of course correct. My sire gave me into the care of Gimli for those times when I was beyond his direct supervision and here of course I am very far away. Gimli son of Gloin has been my rock and without his strength, I would not have survived as I have nor would I now be looking forward to my life here if it were not for him. He is my second father it is true enough, in more ways than I sometimes appreciate fully."

  
I give Fimbrethil a rueful look recalling what happened a few days ago.

  
“I believe that is true of any child with any parent, not just you with the Lord Gimli.” Fimbrethil laughs.

  
“I know it and no matter how much I grumble I know how fortunate I am. I could not have done any of what we have achieved here without him and that is the full truth of it.”  
“Then it behoves us to prepare the best birthing day for him that we can. I believe our best plan will be to recruit the help of Mistress Glasiel as soon as we may.”  
I nod, but am at a loss how I am to achieve that without alerting Gimli. Fimbrethil it seems is up to the challenge.

  
“If we ask her to join us to go over the accounts, I believe Lord Gimli’s natural aversion to matters of bookkeeping, something you seem to have inherited from your dwarven parent as well as King Thranduil, will put him off the scent.”

  
I am still laughing when Gimli puts his head around the door and inquires if we are done yet.  
xxxx  
To get a perfect beer, timing is important and the barley and malt have been steeping long enough as of today. It is important to add the sugar and move it to permanent containers at just the right time to begin the carbonising. It is quite an exact science, and I am determined that this first batch will turn out successfully. If that means I must miss a morning going over the quarterly accounts, it is a cost I am willing to pay.

  
If I am truthful, I am more than willing. I am actually quite pleased to have an excuse to miss out on looking over monotonous household figures. And to be perfectly honest, the beer could have waited a few hours, but if I wanted to avoid being wheedled into helping I had to come up with a fast excuse to get away and the beer was the first thing that came to mind. Perhaps I should feel guilty over having left Legolas in Fimbrithil’s clutches, but just now I am just relieved at having gotten away. Guilt may come later but there are few things I find more detestable than spending time adding and subtracting, trying to make things come out even when it has nothing to do with measuring something to be constructed. Balancing household expenditures is something I always left to those in my employ to handle, but Master Fimbrithil refuses to let us just trust him to have it right. He is very thorough indeed and insists that one or the other of us go through the accounts with him and fortunately for me, he cornered Legolas first this time. Legolas isn’t one to watch calendars, so if I am careful and pay attention, I may be able to stay out of sight when the next quarter rolls around again.

  
In the meantime I need to make sure my excuse doesn’t become an untruth, so I hurry down to the cellars. I am surprised to find Mistress Glasiel has already beaten me to my own task and is opening the containers one at a time to check out the color of the steeping ingredients.

 

The lady has already surprised me many times with her knowledge of things I wouldn’t expect her to have any idea about. We are certainly fortunate to have her with us, and her young niece who she is training to work with her. Without the two of them, my elfling and I would be living a very coarse life instead of one of luxury and comfort, for neither of us has much skill or experience in the finer domestic arts. When we were not travelling and surviving on what we could hunt or find in the wilderness, we were both in homes outfitted with skilled servants. So if it isn’t to be skinned and boiled in a pot or roasted over an open fire, or it cannot be packed into a bundle that can be carried on our backs, we don’t have a clue what to do with it. I am doubly appreciative, for Mistress Glasiel seems to know a great deal about some of what must seem the peculiarities of mortals, such as our penchant for preferring ale over wine. Still I am surprised she is skilled in the art of brewing it, but she looks as if she knows what she is doing as she inspects the contents of the containers. Before I say a word she looks up and smiles.  
“It seems the right time to add the sugar, Lord Gimli, but we mustn’t add too much or there might be trouble.” She chuckles at some memory. “The first time I tried my hand at brewing the hobbit ale, it over carbonised from too much sugar and we had quite a spectacular explosion. The noise brought half the household to the cellars, thinking we were somehow being attacked. Poor Mr. Frodo was beside himself, apologizing for having suggested that we give it a try.”

  
“It sounds quite an adventure,” I say, smiling at the thought of dear Frodo and his hobbit’s appetite for ale. It is lovely to hear Mistress Glasiel relate stories of the ring bearers and their time here in the undying lands. Often we wondered how Bilbo and Frodo and eventually even Sam fared once they’d sailed into the far west. It is nice to become acquainted with someone who knew them, for Mistress Glasiel was employed by Lord Elrond when the hobbits were still living. She and her niece both spent many years cooking for them and getting to know them quite well it seems. In fact Glasiel decided to come to work for us because she says she felt like she knew us already from the stories our hobbity friends related to her. This means that she alone of the household staff had some idea of the true nature of my relationship with Legolas.

  
How much the others of our household staff know I cannot guess for I have not revealed anything that Legolas might be uncomfortable with them knowing. Still I do not think we can hide such things forever from people who live in our own house and I’m not willing to tiptoe around the issue either. For one thing, there is no need for it. Back in Middle Earth, the lad often felt humiliated at the idea of still being considered young enough to have occasional need of a parental figure in his life, in spite of my reassurance that it was perfectly normal. It is something everyone goes through I told him for we were all young once, but living in unusual times and circumstances he knew of no others among the elves who were in his situation, and most mortals would have had no way of knowing of his youth for to most mortal eyes, all elves look young and fair.  
Of course the folks of our own realms and our closest friends knew of our unusual bond, but in general I’m not certain what folks thought. Our friendship was well known far and wide because of the uniqueness of it, and I am sure my lack of a wife and his turning away one female admirer after another brought about some interesting conjecture, especially among the humans we spent time with. Of course I have never mentioned the possibility that folks might have such ideas about us, for I am certain the thought never occurred to Legolas and he would be mortified it ever did. Personally I have never cared to bother to explain our private business to anyone and cared even less about their speculation.

  
Here though, things are different. There are many young elves and elven children here, my elfling being far from the youngest, and no one would be the least bit surprised that he arrived here with a guardian, though I’m sure no one would have expected it to be a dwarf. That bit is still a surprise to everyone who knows about it, and as I said before I’m not sure how many do know or guess it. I am always careful never to scold or take him to task within the hearing of others, but that is not because I do not wish to be seen in a parental role, but because I have no desire to humiliate him publicly. Certainly our staff has seen me being protective-overly so according to certain elves of my acquaintance-or openly affectionate. What they make of that, I do not know, but I’m sure they are intelligent enough to figure things out for themselves, though as I said before, the only one I am certain of is Mistress Glasiel. Having finished looking over the steeping barley and malt, she smiles at me and leaves me to my task of taking care of the beer while she heads back upstairs to begin preparing the mid day meal.

  
She became a quick ally to me when we first set up our household, because she immediately saw my determination to keep a close watch on my charge and to make certain that he cares for himself properly. She recognized right away that he still seemed too thin from the effects of the sea longing and made it her goal to see that he doesn’t skip meals as he is wont to do when distracted with something interesting. This is something I fully agree with and had instituted years before we left Middle Earth when I was trying to get the child in good enough condition to make the journey. Some may say this is completely unnecessary, but those folks didn’t see how weak and debilitated he had become back then. I have no intention of seeing such a thing again, even if it means gaining the reputation of being a clucking hen; and it is very helpful to have an extra pair of eyes in the form of Mistress Glasiel. How Legolas feels about her diligence, I do not know, but I am grateful for it in the extreme.

  
It takes the whole morning to move the beer from the steeping containers over to the permanent barrels for carbonizing, and then right on cue Mistress Glasiel comes to find me.

  
“Lord Gimli, Fimbrethil still has Lord Legolas holed up in that office and it is already an hour past time for the mid day meal,” she informs me from the top of the cellar steps. I know she is not telling me this just for information, but she wishes me to do something about it. She does not feel it is her place to interrupt the senschal and his duties, but she also knows that I won’t mind doing it.

  
“I shall see what can be done about the situation,” I assure her. “Aye it would be a crime to let your fine dinner get cold would it not?”

  
She nods her thanks, and I take myself up the stairs and into the office just in time to hear Fimbrethil and Legolas laughing over something. That is a good sign, for it must mean that the accounts are finished, but when I ask if they are done I can tell right away that Legolas is up to something. He has a look I recognize as being hopeful that I won’t notice something.

  
“What are you about, Elfling?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

  
“Nothing!” he insists in a tone an octave higher than usual. He then clears his throat and attempts to look hurt before adding in a normal tone, “We were only working on the accounts, Gimli. What else would I be doing?”

  
Fimbrethil seems to find our exchange amusing, but he steps in to side with the lad.

  
“He is probably only feeling guilty about not having paid proper attention to his studies in mathematics,” Fimbrethil chuckles, “for I am sure if he’d listened to his tutors we’d be finished by now. As it is we still have plenty to do.”

  
“Hmmph!” I say, accepting this excuse for now. “Well Mistress Glasiel has had the noon meal ready for some time and will not be pleased if we keep it waiting any longer.”  
Looking relieved, Legolas hurries to exit the room and the situation and make for the dining room where we normally take our meals with the rest of the staff, for there is no need for formalities with our small household. Fimbrethil follows to join us, having resigned himself to our unusual ways, but his expression is completely unreadable to me so I still have no idea what those two have been up to.

  
The meal is uneventful but as it comes to a close Fimbrethil insists that they must return to the accounts. Feeling sorry for Legolas having to spend a whole morning on such tasks when the sunny weather outside must be enticing even though it is sure to be cold, I offer to take his place this afternoon. As soon as I make the offer he gets that panicked look again and hurries to assure me it is not necessary.

  
“I wouldn’t want you to neglect your beer, Elvellon.” He tells me.

  
Since when? He certainly wasn’t concerned about my beer this morning when he tried to persuade me to join them. Something is definitely up, but before I can form a question, Fimbrethil has risen to leave and asks that Mistress Glasiel join them as soon as she can, for he wishes to question her about some of the kitchen expenditures. He heads back to his duties then, with Legolas close on his heels as if he wishes to get away without being questioned again. Glasiel looks perplexed for a moment and then just shrugs at me and begins cleaning up after the meal. I do not attempt to help her, for while she is willing to concede to eating meals with us, she will not tolerate someone trying to do her job for her. Instead I go back to the cellars to continue on with earlier task, puzzled and a little concerned.

  
Something is unquestionably going on, but I decide there is no need to worry over it just yet. Whatever is taking place in that devious mind of his will come to light sooner or later. It always does. For now I concentrate on preparing my recipe. I may need it!

  
XXXX  
“What are you about, Elfling?” Gimli asks, narrowing his eyes. It is all I can do to answer “Nothing!” and wish not for the first time that I could control the timbre of my voice when I answer Gimli’s questions. He is bound to think I am up to something and what is so unfair is I am not! Well nothing foolish or dangerous or rash anyway. I clear my throat, and do my very best to look suitably hurt at such an accusation as I answer.

  
“We were only working on the accounts, Gimli. What else would I be doing?” Even while managing a look of pure innocence, which on this occasion at least is justified I look towards Fimbrethil for support and I am happy to acknowledge that our seneschal does not let me down.

  
He steps forward and smiles at Gimli pronouncing, “He is probably only feeling guilty about not having paid proper attention to his studies in mathematics,” Fimbrethil chuckles, “for I am sure if he’d listened to his tutors we’d be finished by now. As it is, we still have plenty to do.”

  
Gimli grumbles but to my great relief accepts his words merely reiterating that Mistress Glasiel has had the noon meal ready for some time and that we should not keep her waiting any longer than we already have.

  
I am quite happy to follow my guardian to the kitchens where we eat our morning and noontime meals. It would not bother either Gimli or I if we ate all our dinners here as well, but Mistress Glasiel would be outraged I suspect. For all she has worked for the ring bearers she still retains a certain amount of elven stuffiness and for her two ‘lords’ to sit down to dinner with the staff would not be at all acceptable to her so Gimli and I sit in isolated splendour in the dining hall every night while Aerlinn and Canthui wait upon us.

  
I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies. Chi would never have countenanced me sitting for my meals in the kitchen, no matter what the circumstance, and today I am grateful for the presence of Forodren our head groom, his son Gaearon ,who acts as our gardener and general helper, and Hwiniol who also works in the stables with Forodren. With all their chatter Gimli will have little opportunity to quiz me on what I have been up to this morning.

  
When we first began to eat with the elves that work for us they were so quiet and reserved it was uncomfortable for all of us. Now that they realize neither Gimli nor I will bite their heads off they are less restrained, although I think that both Fimbrethil and Mistress Glasiel would prefer it is we were less familiar with the staff. I suspect they think that I in particular am a bad influence. Today I do not mind either way as long as it prevents Gimli from subjecting me to one of his inquisitions. He is worse than Sauron when he gets into the mood.

  
To my profound relief when the meal is over Fimbrethil manages to get Glasiel to join us to discuss the kitchen accounts without igniting Gimli’s interrogative antennae too much. Mistress Glasiel is another matter altogether. She is fairly bristling when she bustles into the room and I am grateful that her ire is turned on Fimbrethil not me.  
He soon explains the reason for her summons and her ruffled feathers are soon smoothed and she enters into our plans with an enthusiasm that is very gratifying.  
“Lord Gimli’s birthday. Why I recall the many parties we organised for Bilbo, Frodo, and Sam. Such a care they took over the gifts they chose to give out to their friends and of course the food … I need not say how much they enjoyed planning the foods we ate. I believe I know fairly well Lord Gimli’s particular favourites.” She looks out of the window as she speaks, and my own eyes follow hers as I see the drifting snow beyond the windows. “I only hope the weather relents sufficiently for me to call upon the kitchens in New Imladris for supplies. It will be a poor feast without the rich fruit breads that Lord Gimli enjoys so much.”

  
I agree for I know enough about the traditions that pertain to dwarven celebrations on their birthdays for I have been fortunate enough to celebrate their special days with them, but I have to put her right on one issue and it is one I had not thought of until now: birthday gifts!

  
What can I possibly come up with for his birthday gift in such a short time?

  
“We give them presents then?” Glasiel asks looking bewildered. She obviously thought that all mortal kind followed the Hobbits tradition of giving rather than receiving presents on their special day.

  
“Yes, just as we would with elven kind,” I answer, “although what I am to give him I do not know. Ai, how could I have forgotten Gimli’s special day?”

  
Both Fimbrethil and Glasiel hurry to reassure me, reminding me of how busy we have all been and that I should not blame myself, but I do. How can I not?

  
“We must all come up with some ideas for suitable gifts,” Fimbrethil speaks up, “I am sure we can find something to show Lord Gimli how much we esteem him. I will speak with the rest of the staff this evening and see if they can come up with some ideas. For now Mistress Glasiel, do you have the requisite foodstuffs to provide us with a small party?”  
“I would think so. What particular foods do we need Lord Legolas?”

  
“We will need hard boiled eggs dyed red, for that is the colour for dwarfish celebrations- and a many layered pound cake with cherry jelly and sprinkled with powdered sugar on top. Oh and ale, it would not be a dwarven festivity without it and spiced bread, like the ones we eat for celebrations for Gimli has taken that on as part of his special day. Can we provide all of that.”

  
I see Glasiel reviewing my list in her mind, “Everything save the candied fruits that we will require for the bread,” again her eyes go to the window, “If the weather remains as it is we may have to do without or come up with a substitute.” She sees my dismay and hurries to reassure me that she will do all she can to make the day special for her dwarven lord.

  
Her obvious affection for Gimli makes me feel inordinately pleased. We have been so fortunate in our staff.

  
“And we will need to know all you can tell us about the special traditions that Lord Gimli would expect if he were back on Arda. We may not be his real family but we are the closest he has now to such a thing, and whatever we can do to help him celebrate we must do so.” Fimbrethil says and Mistress Glasiel nods in agreement.

  
“Indeed we must. You will best know what we need to do and what things we need to hunt down Lord Legolas . You will no doubt have shared his celebrations with him before …”

  
“I have” I smile as memories crowd around me. I recall with elven clarity the first time I shared a begetting day celebration with my friend, and how hard he and his family tried to make my day special for me. They mixed both elven and dwarven traditions and I am determined to do the same.

  
“We will need ribbons.”

  
“Ribbons my lord?”

  
“Yes gold and white. They have to form a curtain that covers his doorway at the start of his day. The ribbons need to be white and gold, and it is important that Gimli is the first to walk through them so that he is guaranteed good fortune in the following year.”

  
“I am sure we can find ribbon Lord Legolas, but is there special significance to the colour?”

  
“Indeed there is the white ones are there to absorb any troubles and worries the celebrant has while the gold ones pick up their hopes and dreams and plans for the future. Once Gimli has walked through them the white ribbons are tossed into the fire, which symbolically destroys any lingering worries or concerns.

  
The gold ribbons are kept and one of them is tied to Gimli’s person and we offer him a blessing,” I explain, “The tying on of the blessing ribbon is an outward symbol of best wishes and anyone who sees him on the day also offers a gold ribbon. It depends who you are as to where you tie the ribbon and each person offers a blessing as they add their ribbon. Oh and Mistress Glasiel Gimli will need pancakes for his break of fast, but he chooses which one, although from experience I would say that apple and walnut will be the ones he asks for.”

  
“Well those I can provide.” She says confidently “Aye and any other I trust, but as to the ribbons how do we know where to tie our ribbons?”

  
“Only a father ties a ribbon round the waist of their child. The rest of us weave ribbons into his beard and his braids.”

  
“He will not be offended if we all offer our own blessings?”

  
“Gimli?” I laugh, “He will love it for it will show him that we are all a family here and that is something he has wished to happen.”

  
Then my face falls, as I recall I have no idea what I am to get him as a gift.

  
“You will come up with something I know Lord Legolas,” my housekeeper assures me, “and now if we are to begin preparations we must all get on there are not that many days for us to organise things.”

  
Glasiel bustles towards the door and Fimbrethil follows her and I am left alone still wondering what I can possibly come up with to show Gimli how much I appreciate his care.  
I am still wondering when there is a diffident knock on the door and our head groom and his son stand there displaying all the reluctance to be there as I did when summoned to see my Adar for some misdemeanour.

  
“Could you spare us a few moments my lord?” Forodren asks.

  
“Of course”

  
I wait for them both to enter wondering what has driven them both inside for although I have only known them both for a short time I know they prefer to be out in the stables or gardens even in weather such as we are experiencing presently.

  
Forodren was in Greenwood when Oropher was king. He left for the west after his wife was killed in an Orc attack, bringing his son to what he hoped would be a new and safer life as well as ensuring they would be ready when his wife was released from the halls of waiting. Like many he is still waiting for his wife’s return but he and Gaearon have made a good life here on the island. They came to the valley offering their services when Forodren heard that we were looking for staff. He has a natural way with horses, and his obvious love for my daeradar drew me to him.

  
My faith in Forodren’s abilities has only grown over the time he has been here. The stables are maintained in a way that even my Rohirrim friends would approve of. His knowledge of care of horses is second to none although he has little time for those who do not live up to his high standards as I found out to my cost when he offered me the sharp edge of his tongue when I went against his advice and came to grief on the road a few days ago.

  
I insisted on taking out our sleigh despite his warning that fresh snow would make dangers on the path ahead more difficult. Trying out an admittedly showy manoeuvre on a steep curve I caught one of the runners on a hidden rock, bending it completely out of shape and putting the sleigh out of action until it can be repaired. Master Forodren was less than pleased with me when I returned especially when he found out that one of the horses also lost the special shoes that they wear in the winter.

  
I am still smarting from the fall out of that return, for it was not only my ears that burned, from Forodren’s scolding. Once Gimli became aware of my accident he demanded a full account of what had happened and was furious that I had chosen to ignore good advice and place myself in danger for no better purpose than to practice some ‘tom-foolery’.  
Gimli saw to it that I regretted that particular piece of foolishness and I am still sitting very gingerly because of his method of making me see the error of my ways. It may be very effective but it is also very painful. I suppose I should be grateful that he always waits until we are alone to take me to task. Indeed I am grateful even though I suspect that Master Forodren had a fairly good idea of what was going to happen when Gimli suggested that we go to the office to ‘discuss’ what had occurred. Forodren is a father after all and Gaearon is of a similar age to myself I would think.

  
For now I better concentrate on what brings this particular father and son here.

  
“You wished to speak with me?”

  
“Aye Lord Legolas. We have a favour to ask if we may.” I nod and indicate he should continue. “Lord Gimli is intending to begin repairs on the sleigh tomorrow and he has asked young Gaearon here to assist him.”

  
I frown, wondering where this is going. “Is that going to cause a problem for you?”

  
Gaearon sees my frown and hurries to reassure me, “No indeed Lord Legolas I have already done some work with Lord Gimli in the forge, working the bellows and making sure the fires are hot enough. I enjoy it very much. That is what I wished to speak to you about.” He pauses and looks to his father for help and Forodren steps into the breach.  
“My son has always shown an interest in working as a farrier or smith, and since he has been helping Lord Gimli that interest has grown. We wondered if perhaps you would speak to Lord Gimli about Gaearon working with him more often.”

  
“You want to work with Gimli?”

  
Gaearon beams at my quick understanding of the problem.

  
“Indeed Lord Legolas. There is nothing I would like more. He is so skilled in what he does. I have never seen an elf work metal as well as Lord Gimli. I promise I would work very hard and not neglect my other duties. It would mean so much to me, if you would but just ask him if he would consider it.”

  
It is my time to smile for I know very well that Gimli would relish the prospect of training up someone to work alongside him to take over some of the more mundane everyday work so that he could concentrate on what really interests him most of all, fine gem and jewel craft.

  
“I will speak to him tonight Gaearon and I am sure that Lord Gimli’s answer will be a positive one. He has long talked of taking an apprentice, and to have one such as you would, I believe, please him very much.”

  
And as I say this I realize that not only will it please Gimli and give Gaearon a proper trade but it has also given me an idea on what we can do for Gimli for his birthday.  
While heavy work will always have to be done in the forge, there is no reason we cannot have a proper workroom here inside where Gimli will be a great deal warmer and more comfortable, especially during the long winter months ahead of us. All it would take would be a few benches and a brazier or two, a metal or stone workbench and lots of light and I think I know exactly where that room might be.

  
I stand up and both Gaearon and Forodren look surprised as I clap my hands and laugh, “Do not look so shocked. I have just had the most wonderful idea. You will know what I am talking about at dinner. I must go and visit the spare dairy. I believe I have just come up with an excellent idea of what we can do with it and I will speak to Gimli for you tonight Gaearon I am sure he will say yes to your request.”

  
They probably think I am completely insane but I do not care for when I step into the dairy I know that my instincts are correct this will make a perfect workroom for Gimli. The floor and walls are covered in stone with heavy weight wooden tables and benches already in place. The wall that leads into the kitchen courtyard has several high windows so there is plenty of natural light that oil lamps will enhance should he wish to work late. The addition of some solid braziers for heating metals and some flat stones for working on, some shelves and hooks for his tools and this will be a perfect workroom for Gimli Elvellon.

  
Of course getting it all ready, without Gimli noticing will be difficult but if I can persuade him to take on Gaearon as his apprentice he will be too busy to notice what I am up to. All I have to do is get him to agree. I am sure I can.

  
I am pleased to say that for once I am proved right, when we sit down to dinner Gimli is looking pleased with the way his day has gone and by dint of asking after the progress of his ale we spend the first part of the meal in perfect amity. It seems like a good time to bring up the subject of Gaearon and as I hoped Gimli is very enthusiastic.  
“Now there is a young elf with great potential,” he tells me, “and he has the proper physique for it as well…good musculatures not like some scrawny elflings not too far away from me at present.”

  
“You did not consider me scrawny when I was saving your hide at Helms Deep, dwarf.”

  
“As I recall princeling I won the competition even if you did cheat!”

  
“I did not cheat!” I retort grinning at my friend. “He was definitely twitching.”

  
“That is what you say, you scoundrel. However I will not tease you over it, for I am too happy to think that I will have someone to pass my skills onto when the time comes and I’ll let you into a secret, Lamb. It will suit me very well to let someone else do the heavy work occasionally. I might even start young Gaearon on straightening that sleigh runner. It will be good practice for him. Aye, I think that would be a very good thing. We will start tomorrow. Ye will not mind if I spend the next few days settling him in and showing him how to go on?”

  
He sounds anxious although I do not know why that should be the case so I hurry to answer.

  
“No indeed not, it sounds like an excellent idea,” the Valar must be smiling on me for once for I can scarcely believe my good fortune. Gimli is going to be fully occupied away from the house for several days, which means I can get on with my plans for his workroom uninterrupted. Maybe even be able to complete a small personal gift to him of my own without worrying he will find out about our little surprise before his birthday.

  
This is most fortuitous.  
xxxxx


	2. Chapter 2

Though my suspicion is still aroused, I decide there is no need to worry too much just yet for whatever Legolas is up to, Master Fimbrithil must be involved for they have spent the entire day together. Fimbrithil doesn’t seem the sort to encourage or condone anything that might be foolish or dangerous so while I am still curious, I am not as worried as I might have been otherwise. I decide to let it go for now and continue on with my task with an untroubled mind.

Once I have all the beer moved to permanent barrels and the correct amount of sugar added, I consult the recipe that my nephew worked so hard to obtain from Mistress Brynja’s granddaughter. According to the enclosed chart, the cold winter temperatures of our cellar means that the carbonising should take only six days to get the best foam potential. That means that in a very short time I will be able to have my first taste of Mistress Brynja’s bitter on this side of the sea. I am rather pleased with this accomplishment and only hope that it turns out to be a success. Before I return upstairs, I go to look at the crudely drawn hand made calendar I have tacked on the wall to help me keep track of the brewing process so I can mark the sampling day. I am surprised to see that it falls on the twenty seventh day of the month-exactly on my 263rd birthday! We have all been so busy, that it hadn’t even occurred to me that this date was coming up. I smile to think how much things have improved since this time last year, when worry over my elfling was plaguing my mind night and day. We have much to be thankful for. And then I laugh out loud to think that I have just made myself a perfect birthday gift without even realizing it. Happy birthday to me!

  
It is then that I recall that this means something else as well for Legolas’ begetting day is only eight days after my birthday. It is the custom of elves that they only celebrate milestone dates of their begetting day after the first 1,000 years of life and while Legolas has not quite reached that age yet, he has not cared to mark the day in the last twenty years or so. He has some foolish idea about it being shameful to be considered young. Personally I feel he shouldn’t rush his age, for he has sacrificed enough of his youth as it is without giving certain pleasures up before it is necessary. He still has another eighty years or so that it is still considered appropriate to celebrate his begetting day annually and I for one will make sure the day never goes unremarked as long as I am still around to do so. I do not expect to see him reach his majority, but I do feel as if I’ll hang on a good long spell now.

  
I well remember that first begetting day we celebrated all those years ago in Erebor and I have tried never to miss one since if we were together on that day. Even if we were not I have always tried to remember to send a gift or at least a letter to let him know he was in my thoughts. Of course for the past ten years that I was living in Ithilien we have been together on that day and though he had little energy or desire for entertaining guests or hosting big celebrations, I still made certain that the two of us did something special together to mark the day.

  
Last year had been a bit of a disappointment for I had hoped that we could make a trip to Eryn Lasgalen so that Legolas could spend his special day with his father. I knew it might be the last one they might spend together before he entered adulthood for real and annual celebrations were no longer the proper thing. Fortunately I had never mentioned the plan to the lad, for when the time came the weather was so bad that I thought it would take too much out of him to make the trip. His natural ability to fight off the chill was weakened to the point that the cold would have taken a toll on him and since we were to travel in the spring to say goodbye and then come back to begin our long sea journey, I felt it was just too much to endure. As disappointing as it was, I knew I could not risk what little health he had left for such a journey.

  
Instead we had a quiet day in front of the fire together for I had instructed the household to handle anything that happened to come up without disturbing us. That morning I had brushed and braided his hair myself. He had taken to wearing it loose on days when he was feeling too stubborn to allow me to do it for him, for he became frustrated that he was having trouble remembering the intricate braid patterns that he customarily wore. That day, however, I had convinced him to let me do it, claiming that I wished to weave the gold ribbon that represents hopes for the future into his braid. Ordinarily I would have tied the ribbon around his waist, as is the custom for a father to do, but this time I dug out the mithril belt that I had gifted him all those years ago and tied it around his waist instead. It was made to fit the girth of a dwarf and Legolas had lost a frightening amount of weight, so the belt wrapped around him twice and half a time more, but the jewels sparkled in the sunlight that poured in through the windows and the child laughed when I commented that he made a festive picture. I was ridiculously happy, for by then I would have moved heaven and earth just to invoke a brief smile, so a genuine laugh was a gift indeed.

  
We began the day reminiscing about past parties and celebrations we had enjoyed together as we toasted the special fruit bread over the fire and spread it with honey. After a while when it seemed that I was holding the conversation by myself, I encouraged him to lie with his head in my lap as I told one dwarfish tale after another-as many as I could recall-throwing in an occasional song for good measure. I do not know if he listened to my stories or not, but he seemed to be able to relax and even sleep for a while in more peace and comfort than usual. Perhaps the sound of my voice temporarily blocked some of the dark thoughts and the relentless pounding of the sea and cry of the gulls that was always present with him at that time. Whatever the case it was a trick that I employed on many more occasions when he was having a particularly difficult night.  
I offer a silent prayer of thanks that those difficult days are behind us for good now. He does have an occasional dark dream and a few anxious moments still, but the days when I feared that I might outlive him have gone never to return. The improvement from last year to this is nothing short of a miracle for without the relentless torment of the sea longing, he has almost returned to his former gregarious self.

  
Of course that is a mixed blessing considering that tomorrow I am going to have to spend the day repairing the damage he did to our sleigh. The return of his health has also meant the return of his penchant for pulling crazy stunts and getting into bother. Master Forodren was most put out with him, and I was quite annoyed myself that he had placed himself in danger just for the sake of experiencing the thrill of racing about like a maniac. I let him know very clearly exactly what I thought about such foolishness, but at the same time I was secretly pleased with this proof that he was returning to normal and enjoying life again.

  
As I said, one year has made a remarkable difference, so it would be a terrible shame not to acknowledge his first begetting day this side of the sea. We are not prepared to host a big celebration since the house is still under construction, but surely we can manage something small with just our staff. Some extra pains taken with the evening meal and a few gifts would be enough to make the day special. Mistress Glasiel and her niece Aerlinn are both eager to be accommodating and I am quite certain I can gain their help. In fact all of the staff are quite fond of their ‘young lord’ and why wouldn’t they be? He is always pleasant to them and makes no demands. In fact between us we rarely even have a request, but just leave them to do whatever they think best.

  
In fact I think we are so easy that Mistress Glasiel finds it a bit unseemly. Just last week I found her tsking over some clean laundry that her niece had just finished washing. When I asked her if anything was amiss she hesitated a moment, but then decided to speak her mind.

  
“Lord Gimli, how am I supposed to train Aerlinn to be a housekeeper if the two of you never complain? These tunics are stained and I have a feeling this is not the first time.”  
I merely shrugged for it was true that sometimes things weren’t as clean as they might have been but Aerlinn is such a sweet thing, so pretty and shy, that I didn’t like to say anything.

  
“Lord Legolas wouldn’t even notice the stains” she continued, “and you would likely rewash them yourself rather than risking the girl receiving the sharp edge of my tongue.”  
Again I shrugged. I had once rewashed a few things, but it hadn’t been anything that difficult. “Well it is no trick to…”

  
Her stunned expression was enough to cause me to cut my words off as I realized she had only been jesting. She closed her eyes as if gathering her thoughts took a deep breath and opened them again.

  
“My Lord, it is our job to care for the two of you so you must inform us of your needs if we are to do it properly,” she patiently explained. “What is the use of keeping a dog if you do your own barking?”

  
I couldn’t help smiling at her homey turn of speech, for it reminded me of my own dear sister. I had the feeling that Mistress Glasiel could be very formidable indeed when she was crossed. In spite of her perpetually serene expression and her stiff elven demeanor, I could see that she was little different from the straight speaking dwarven ladies I had known.

  
As if thinking of her has conjured her up, I see Mistress Glasiel with Master Fimbrithil right behind her, having evidently finally finished with the accounts. Fortunately for me, Forodren and young Gaearon have been waiting to speak to Legolas over something, so he should be occupied long enough for me to speak privately to the two of them. When I explain to them what I need, they exchange brief glances, but readily agree that they will do what they can to help me out.

  
I will have to discuss the details of it later for it will not be long before Legolas will join me, for it has become our custom to spend the evening meal and the time after together most night. For the sake of Mistress Glasiel’s sense of propriety, we take the evening meal in the dining hall with just the two of us, for it disturbs her enough already that we sit down with the staff in the kitchen at all. To do so at dinner would be more than she could countenance.

  
Legolas is in a surprisingly good mood for someone who has spent the entire day working on household accounts, which proves my earlier theory that something is going on around here. No doubt if I kept at it long enough, I could find out, but I decide to leave it alone for now so as not to destroy the pleasant meal we are having together. Again I put my suspicion on a back burner as we talk over the day.

  
Legolas then informs me that our young gardener, Gaearon has requested that he be allowed to spend more time with me learning the art of metal working. I am of course inordinately pleased, for I have already worked with him some before and he is certainly a worthy Lad, already inclined to hard work and quick to learn. It will be a good way to help him learn a trade that will benefit him, besides giving me an extra pair of hands to do some of the heavier work that must be done around here. Besides I had already asked him to help me work on the damaged sleigh runner tomorrow so that will be a perfect place to start. It will take some time and take me away from the house for a few days so I hope my elfling won’t mind my attention being mostly elsewhere for a while, but when I ask him he seems strangely happy that I will be missing for the better part of the day for several days. Again I have that vague feeling of unease that something is going on that he doesn’t wish me to know about, but I still decide not to pursue it since it isn’t exactly a crime to be too readily agreeable.

  
Instead we move to the sitting room to spend some time reading and talking in front of the fire, before going to bed. I wake up to find that the weather is starting to turn again. Fimbrithil has assured us that not every winter is as bad as this one and I hope he is correct, for we have had one winter storm after another it seems. Not that that is much of a concern since we have solid stone walls around us and thick slates over our head, besides having plenty of stores of supplies gifted by our friends for our first winter here on the lonely isle. After preparing for the day, I cross over to Legolas’ chamber to find he has already risen and gone. I find him in the kitchen looking worriedly out the window with Mistress Glasiel standing next to him and seemingly reassuring him about something.

  
“Do not worry; I will come up with a suitable substitute,” she says, “after all we still have nuts and plenty of spices.”

  
“It will not be the same,” Legolas says fretfully, though I cannot imagine why he has suddenly become interested in Mistress Glasiel’s cooking.

  
“Not exactly the same,” she agrees, “but you can see that travelling all the way to New Imladris would be too hazardous in this storm.”

  
“It is only snow,” Legolas says, “I am sure I would have no trouble if I go myself…”

  
I clear my throat to make my presence known and to put a quick end to that line of thought. Likely the lad is just seeking an excuse to leave the confines of our property, especially after having been stuck in an office all day yesterday. He whirls around and colors a bit when he sees that I have heard this conversation.

  
“There is nothing we need so badly that anyone need take the risk of travelling in this storm,” I decree. “Whatever it is ye’re after will keep for anther time, Lamb.”

  
Instead of arguing with me, he merely flushes a deeper red and hurries to call to Fimbrithil who has just entered the room, and that is the end of that idea. Or at least I hope so.  
In spite of the fact that Glasiel and Fimbrithil find it a little inappropriate that we like to sit with the staff for meals, I enjoy the lively chatter of a larger group of folks eating together. Back in Aglarond I rarely took meals alone, but mostly dined in the public dining halls. This morning I notice Gaearon glance at me hopefully and I realize he must be wondering how I have responded to the request he knew Legolas was planning to ask me about last night. When I inform him that I am more than happy to take him under my tutelage, he seems tremendously pleased and is quick to thank me for taking the time to teach him my craft. He agrees to meet me in the forge just after first meal.

  
By the time I make my way through the storm out to the forge, Gaearon is already just outside waiting for me. He is dressed very lightly considering how cold and miserable the weather is, but I have become accustomed to such things, though it is on the tip of my tongue to mention it. I am pleased to see that he is wearing close fitting clothing and already has his black hair tied back into a long glossy tail for safety purposes. He has worked with me before and must remember that I always insist on taking all possible safety measures. I also have my hair and beard tightly braided and my beard tucked into my belt to prevent serious burns, for the most dangerous part of working with metal is the possibility of something accidentally catching fire.

  
Before we enter the forge, we go into the nearby shed where the sleigh is housed and I get my real first look at the damage done to the runner. I sigh and shake my head, for the runner is twisted and bent in such a fashion that it will have to be completely melted down and reformed.

  
“It is in a fairly bad state,” Gaearon observes. “Will you be able to repair it?”

  
“It is beyond a simple repair. I will have to remake it, “I tell him and then continue under my breath, “The things I do for that pointy eared menace.”

  
Gaearon chuckles at that. “Admittedly this sleigh was not designed to take sharp curves at high speeds,” he says.

  
“Indeed not,” I agree, but his words give me an idea. “However it could be redesigned.”

  
“Redesigned?”

  
“Aye, of course it could!” I say, warming to the idea. “I could make the sleigh so that the back seat can be detached to make it lighter and then lower the runners and set them wider apart. That way it will glide lightly over the snow and be able to take sharp curves easier.”

  
“So you intend to convert it to a racing sleigh then?” he asks.

  
“Some folks call it a cutter,” I tell him. “I have been wondering what I could come up with as a begetting day gift for the lad, and if ye’re willing to help, I should be able to complete it in time.”

  
“Of course I am willing, Lord Gimli,” Gaearon smiles. “I did not realize Lord Legolas had a begetting day coming up.”

  
“In a few days,” I tell him. “Last year was a difficult one, so I want to make certain this one is a happy occasion. I meant to talk to the rest of the staff and solicit everyone’s help. The hardest bit will be keeping him away from seeing what we are working on.”

  
“I am certain everyone will be happy to help you,” he says. “Ah yes, I remember the days when I was still celebrating annual begetting days. It all ends so soon.”  
I cannot help laughing at his posturing as if he is as ancient as Cirdan himself.

  
“I’d wager that wasn’t as long ago as you’d like me to believe,” I tease him.

  
“I’ll have you know, my Lord, that it was over 130 years ago,” he laughingly asserts.

  
“Aye, nearly half my lifetime ago,” I say, “but I’ve been associated with elves long enough to know that that amount of time is as the blink of an eye to your people. Ye are just a bit more than an adolescent yourself, Lad, I know that much.”

  
“As my father continually likes to remind me,” he ruefully admits. “Now what do we need to do first?”

  
We spend the rest of the day taking the sleigh apart, stopping only to eat the light meal that Aerlinn packed us so we wouldn’t have to stop and trek back into the house for the mid day meal. It is past dark by the time we quit for the day, and already I can see that I am going to enjoy spending time teaching my eager new apprentice.

 

  
Walking back to the house proves to be a difficult task, so heavy is the snow that is now falling thickly around us. I have just enough time to change and join my elfling in our dining hall. He seems to be in good spirits, but tired as if he’s been working hard all day, but when I ask him, he tells me he has been mostly in the house.

  
“What have ye been doing then?” I ask, frowning slightly in concern.

  
“Just odd jobs inside, Gimli. Nothing much,” he tells me.

  
“Are ye well?” I ask.

“I am perfectly fine, Elvellon,” he insists, “why do you ask?”

  
“Ye look tired to me,” I say. “Especially for someone who has just been doing odd jobs in the house.” I know I am risking being accused of being an overprotective mother hen, but I do not care. It is my duty to keep on top of things and my concern over his health and happiness is not likely to go away. We have already been through too much together for me to drop my guard even for a second.

  
“I promise you, I am well, Master Dwarf,” he laughs at me. “I swear you will be the first to know if anything goes wrong.”

  
“Likely story,” I grumble, but let it go for now. “Perhaps we could both do with an early night, for I am exhausted with coming in and out of the storm and you look ready to drop.”

  
He is quick to agree, and even that makes me suspicious, but again I let it go for if I am to finish the sleigh in time, I will need to get an early start on it tomorrow. For once I am the one not wanting to be questioned too closely.  
XXXX

  
I am tired but it is a good kind of exhaustion although I will have to be careful to come up with a better excuse than ‘doing odd jobs inside’ if I am not to arouse Gimli’s suspicions. He is far too well attuned to me not to recognise when I am trying to avoid answering his questions truthfully. I hold my breath but he lets it go for which I am profoundly grateful.

  
This is the second time today he has almost caught me out. The first time was this morning when I was speaking to Mistress Glasiel in the kitchen. I was keen to go to New Imladris to get the candied fruits she will need so she can bake the fruit bread Gimli loves so much for his birthday and she was concerned about my going out in the snow storm. I have travelled in far worse conditions than the ones we could see from the window, but Glasiel was not at all happy at my suggestion.

  
Of course once Gimli spoke up telling me quite severely that there was nothing we needed so badly that anyone needed take the risk of travelling in the storm that was that. I saw Mistress Glasiel nodding in approval for Gimli’s words and obviously thinking that now that he had spoken there would be no more talk of my taking the short journey to New Imladris. I am beginning to suspect that Glasiel is very aware of the situation between my dwarf and me. But I intend to try again tomorrow once Gimli is safely working in the forge if I can give Mistress Glasiel the slip.

  
As it is I have still spent a busy day, for when I spoke to Fimbrethil and Glasiel about my plans for the second dairy room they were not at all keen on the idea telling me it would be entirely unsuitable for the purpose I was intending.

  
“Why?” I demanded to know

  
“Lord Legolas, the dairy is meant to be cold not hot,” Fimbrethil pointed out.

  
“Well I know that,” I answered somewhat shortly for I was really keen on the idea and did not see why it would not work.

  
Mistress Glasiel decided it will be easier to show me rather than argue and I found myself trotting after her as she bustled through the passages to the dairy. The further we went from the kitchen the colder it became. We passed through the dairy that was in use and found Canthui hard at work churning milk and turning it into butter. Aerlinn was separating curds and whey to make cheese but they both stopped and dropped a curtsey as I entered behind Glasiel. I do wish they would get out of the habit of doing that as it is so unnecessary.

  
Mistress Glasiel obviously did not think so for she gave them a nod of approval before ordering them to get on with their work and ushering me through the banded wooden door to the room I wanted to make use of for Gimli. There she threw her arms out wide and pronounced, “Now do you see why it will not be suitable my lord?”  
Well to be truthful I did not. It was just a room with wooden and stone tables and high windows. It was cold of course, but a fire would soon change that. It is then that I realized that there was no fireplace, no way of Gimli being able to heat up his precious metals.

  
“Oh!”

  
I sat down on one of the stone benches thoroughly dejected as I saw all of my clever plans for Gimli’s birthday present going glimmering. How could I have been so stupid?  
Mistress Glasiel saw my dismay and hurried to reassure me, “Here now Lord Legolas no need for such a long face. While this room is entirely unsuitable I believe I know one that will fulfil your needs very nicely.”

  
My despair turned then to new hope, “Where?” I demanded.

  
The where turned out to be the second laundry, which I did not even know about. I admit to taking very little interest in the design of the staff quarters, I should have done so of course because then I would have known that the dairy would not have a fireplace. I seem to recall Gimli trying to get me to listen to him as he described how many of the rooms in the wing we are now using have been temporarily divided while our household is so small. Eventually the temporary walls and doors will be removed and the rooms will then be suitable for a much bigger household. This is why we have unused areas such as the second dairy and laundry. We had to progress through the dairy, Canthui and Aerlinn curtsying again as I passed through then into and out of the kitchen and across into the laundry that was in use. It was hot. A fire was roaring in the huge chimney and sheets and linens were strung up on wooden racks worked by pulley systems high in the ceiling. There were hot water boilers installed, stacks of dry firewood stood against the walls and around the edge of the room were stone sinks and three huge washing vats.

  
Glasiel seemed to believe I would be interested in the process of laundering, for she gave me a detailed tour of the room pointing out all of the modern innovations that Gimli had installed. To say I was less than enthusiastic about this was something of an understatement but there was obviously a point to it all and eventually she came to it, telling me that she has been shocked to find that some of our clothing and linens had been returned to us in a less than pristine condition.

  
“It will not do Lord Legolas,” she told me, “if something is not as it should be you must tell me so I can put things right. I have spoken to Lord Gimli about it already.”  
I wondered what Gimli had answered to that, but in the circumstances I decided it would be wiser not to ask and merely promised that in future I would be sure to say if anything was amiss.

  
My housekeeper seemed satisfied with my answer for she nodded and told me that it was not just my reputation that was at risk. If I was to be seen looking anything less than immaculately turned out.

  
“I would never be able to lift my head up in public again.” She assured me. “Me turning out my lord in soiled linens? I have never been so ashamed.”

  
I decided it would be better to give her thoughts a new direction, for I did not want her to throw herself into one of the great washing vats, as she seemed likely to do at this perceived slur on her housewifery skills. So I asked to see the room she thought could be converted for Gimli’s use, for we only have a few days to get it ready I pointed out.  
This galvanised her into action and she hurried me through another thick-banded door.

  
“Here it is Lord Legolas. I think this should do very well. It will not matter how hot the fires have to be set, for all that will do is help dry the linens next door and there is hot water as well as solid tables and benches already in place.”

  
I could see immediately that this would be perfect, and far enough away from the forge for Gimli not to notice the activity that would be necessary to get it ready for his use. I could not resist giving Mistress Glasiel a swift hug as I answered, “This will be ideal, thank you.”

  
So I have spent my day shifting furniture and helping to put up shelves. I have been given excellent help by Hwiniol and Forodren who once they had finished in cleaning out the stables and the stock pens came to offer their services. As we worked they also talked of the gifts they were all making for Gimli. Forodren and Hwiniol were working on a leather apron that would be used in the new workroom and asked if I would draw them some dwarfish designs to add to it to make it special for him, which of course did. The design was simple but the patterns I used were part of the sigil Gimli had as Lord of the Glittering Caves so I knew he would be pleased with them.

  
Forodren also proudly announced that his son was already working on a suede pouch to hold the specialist jewellery tools that Gimli uses, and I suggested that perhaps he could incorporate some of the designs I had just sketched for them, which Forodren thought an excellent idea. I am so happy to see what esteem my dwarf is held by our staff but somewhat jealous that they have already come up with such excellent ideas for gifts.

  
What it more it seems that they were not the only ones. I ate the noon meal in the kitchen and all of the staff were there save for Gaearon who was eating his meal at the forge with Gimli, so it meant we could talk quite freely and the main topic of conversation was the upcoming birthday and the gifts that were being prepared. Glasiel, Canthui, and Aerlinn were going to embroider some handkerchiefs with Gimli’s initials on and to make him a new pair of the felt indoor boots he likes so much, while Fimbrethil had formed the idea of carving a pipe stand for Gimli’s favourite burr wood pipe.

  
I felt the need to keep reiterating how important it was that we kept our plans secret and I have to admit that I got the impression that the others were finding me quite amusing. They kept exchanging looks and smiles and Aerlinn persisted in giggling until her aunt sent her off to scrub the worktables where the bread had been cooling.  
“She is naught but a foolish child’ Glasiel murmured as Aerlinn departed, ‘how she will ever learn enough to become a housekeeper I do not know.”

  
Of course I felt the need to support poor Aerlinn pointing out that she was still very young and had a lot to learn and that I was certain Glasiel was an excellent teacher. This seemed to mollify her somewhat for she admitted that, that was true enough and that all younglings needed a mentor to help them make the transition into adulthood and how fortunate I was to have Lord Gimli with me. She is definitely beginning to realise the true situation between my dwarven minder and me.

  
At the end of our repast when everyone else began to clear the tables and return to their tasks I continued to sit staring into the kitchen fire for a while. I was very happy to hear that the plans were going well and that all of the staff wanted to produce gifts for Gimli but I found myself at a loss. I had no idea what sort of personal present I could produce for my friend in such a short time.

  
“Lord Legolas is something amiss? I thought all was progressing quite well with your plans.” I looked up to see Fimbrethil regarding me in some concern,  
I shook my head, “No, nothing is wrong. I am merely trying to come up with an idea for a present for Gimli and failing abysmally.”

  
“I believe the greatest gift you could give him is your love and friendship if you do not consider that to be presumptuous of me to say so.”

  
I felt myself blushing but could not deny the truth behind those words, “that may be so but I would still like to give him something tangible, something he could use.”

  
Fimbrethil joined me into gazing into the fire for a few moments then spoke “Lord Gimli was only complaining the other day about not having anywhere to store his designs and plans. You are very good at working with wood could you perhaps come up with something for him.”

  
I too have heard Gimli grumble about the problem of keeping his parchments safe while working and surely it should not be too hard to come up with a simple divided box that could stand on his new work bench. Maybe I could include the same runes and patterns that I have suggested for Forodren and Hwiniol to decorate the front of it.

  
“Lord Legolas?”

  
“Thank you Fimbrethil,” I beamed at him, “That is a wonderful idea.”

  
Happy to have been of help he disappeared into the nether regions of the house while I returned to the soon to be fine craft workshop we are creating in the laundry room. So by the time I sat down to dine I was tired and not at all averse to taking Gimli’s advice of an early night. I will have another full day tomorrow for I have decided that I will make the journey to New Imladris to pick up those candied fruits so that Gimli’s special day will be as perfect as I can make it.

  
I have already decided how I will do it. I shall wait until Gimli has gone out to the forge, and then tell everyone else I will be working in the office on my gift and do not wish to be disturbed, then I will simply climb out of the window and set off for Elrond’s demesne.

  
I should be able to get there and back within half a day even given the severity of the weather and hopefully no one will note my absence. If they do well I will no doubt be in trouble when I return but if I can get those fruits for the bread I shall not care. Well not over much, although sitting may be difficult for a while


	3. Chapter 3

The morning dawns just as dark and gloomy as the day before, and though the snow has stopped temporarily, I can see that the threat of it beginning again is very real. As always I am thankful for the solid roof over our heads. On another day I might be tempted to postpone outdoor activities to stay in and enjoy a cozy day in front of the fire. I have done enough of dealing with inclement weather in my time, that now I mostly try to avoid it. There should be some comforts in reaching ripe old age after all. However, if I am to get the sleigh straightened out and redesigned in time for Legolas’ begetting day, I need to do it while he is still recalling our discussion over his damaging it in the first place. If I wait too long, no doubt he’ll want to visit the forge to see how things are coming along. As it is now, he is not likely to want to be near me and the evidence of his foolishness at the same time. How I am to keep him away from the shed once we have finished it I do not yet know, but I will have to come up with a plausible reason that he should do so. Timing is very important if I am to pull this thing off. 

Speaking of timing, I realize if I am to talk privately to Mistress Glasiel about what we must do to make my elfling’s begetting day memorable, I will have to find her now, before Legolas makes an appearance downstairs. Most days I find him already prepared for the day by the time I rise, but this morning it seems I have beat him to it for a change. All is quiet in the chamber next door and when I cross over through the connecting dressing room, I find him still sleeping soundly, which means if I hurry I will be able to achieve my goal.

As expected I find Mistress Glasiel hard at work, no doubt having risen well before the sun to set her bread sponges and now she is slicing the warm bread in preparation for the morning meal. When she first came to us, one of us making an appearance in the kitchen quite unsettled her for in her mind it was not at all proper that we should be so friendly and familiar with the staff. Now, however, she has gotten quite used to us and only smiles and greets me warmly.

“Good morning, Lord Gimli, I trust you slept well?” she asks.

“Indeed, very well,” I tell her, “but I’d like just a moment of your time, if I may to discuss what I spoke to you about yesterday. I wonder if you know what needs to be done for a begetting day celebration?”

“Of course I know the traditions surrounding begetting day celebrations, though I would not know of things specific to Lord Legolas’ family since all families have their own traditions. You’ll have to clue me in on that.”

I think about that for a moment. We have developed our own unique way of celebrating such things that combines both dwarfish and elvish traditions. 

“I will need a gold ribbon,” I tell her. Though we haven’t always had the full ribbon curtain every year, I have always tried to at least have the one gold ribbon to tie around his waist to express my best wishes for his future endeavors. I do not expect to teach the elves here about all the specific dwarven customs, but I would like to keep at least that tradition in tact.

“That is an easy request,” she says. “Anything else?”

“New clothing seems to be a traditional gift, though I do not know if that is an elvish custom, or a tradition of his family.” I tell her.

“I think it is a common practice among most elves, especially during the years when an elfling is still growing. Of course it carried on beyond that time as well,” she says, looking thoughtful for a moment. “That also will be easy to accomplish since we can use his current garments as a pattern. That will give the ladies of the household a way of coming up with a gift. Perhaps something embroidered with the elm design to celebrate the opening of the new house?”

That is a perfect idea as far as I am concerned, which just leaves the matter of food. When I tell her of his tradition of toasting the fruit bread and spreading it with honey, she frowns just a little in concern.

“I am afraid we do not have the candied fruits that the bread requires and I am uncertain if the weather will clear up enough to make the trip to New Imladris. However, I have dried apples still so apple bread with nuts might make a worthy substitute?”

“Of course it will be fine.” I assure her. “We won’t take the risk of anyone travelling in this weather over a minor detail. What about honey?”

“I am afraid we have run out of that also, but I can make a sauce out of brown sugar, butter, and cream that will go beautifully with the apple bread. Will that do?”

Again I assure her that the substitutions will be fine since it is more the thought behind it, than the exact tradition that matters although next spring I might think about starting to keep our own bees. This may just be a small household with a just few staff and a little bit of livestock, but I can see that sometime in the future, this will be a thriving estate and I intend to do everything I can to help it become as self-sufficient as possible. For now I am just pleased that we have been so fortunate in our staff, who are rapidly becoming like family. 

I am just about to thank Mistress Glasiel again for her help when she catches my eye and glances up at something or someone behind me and I take her hint that it is time to end this conversation. A lithe figure comes up behind me and long arms wrap around my neck in an endearing fashion. A smile comes to my face at this gesture as I reach up to pat the familiar hand and turn to greet my elfling.

“You were up with the birds this morning, Elvellon,” Legolas observes, “what urgent business has torn you from your usual morning ritual of pulling the pillow over your head and going back to sleep a time or two before rising? I didn’t even hear you making tea as per your usual habit.”

I look down to hide any expression he might be able to read on my face and then gruffly clear my throat before responding in a teasing manner. 

“No doubt ye couldna’ hear a thing with all that racket ye were making, Lad. It was your snoring that woke me.”

“I do not snore!” he argues.

I pull at my beard and pretend to think about that. “Perhaps ye’re right about that. Not a snore, but more like a purr…”

“A purr?” he expostulates, “I certainly do not purr.”

“Aye, Lamb, you do. At least you were this morning.”

“I was not!”

“A bit like a lanky blond kitten…”

“Gimli!”

By now he is flushing delightfully and I have managed to change the subject, which was my intention. Mistress Glasiel smiles at our antics and then announces that everything is ready for first meal. 

As soon as the meal is over, Gaearon and I make our way out to the forge to continue with our work from yesterday. As I expected snow is beginning to fall again and the wind has picked up so that it is difficult to see the forge until we are almost right next to it. We spend a pleasant morning working together and Gaearon informs me that he has come up with an idea for a begetting day gift for Legolas if I am willing to help him with it. Of course nothing would please me more, for I am delighted that Gaearon is so enthusiastic about both working with me and wanting to please my elfling. 

“Sleigh bells!” he tells me, when we break to share the noon meal that has been packed for us. “They are very popular and in fact there has been a bit of a competition over that last few winters over who can obtain the finest, richest sounding strand.”

“Then we must show our neighbors who can make the best bells in the land,” I laugh.

“You will show me how to make them then?” he asks.

“Certainly,” I tell him, “it isn’t difficult. A bit finer work than we’ve been doing, but not like jewellery making. We have both iron and silver blanks available and either one will work nicely.” 

“Blanks?”

“Pre cut flat squares of metal,” I explain, “If I have those already handy it makes it easier to get uniform flat shapes when we need them like we’ll need to make bells. We can make paper patterns first to lay on top of the blank.”

I take one of the iron blanks down from a shelf and then take a piece of parchment and draw the four-petal shape we’ll need to cut out a sleigh bell. I am about to show him how we can add a design into the metal to form a leaf shape before we begin to bend it, when the door to the forge is slammed open and Hwiniol flies in along with a great lot of swirling snow.

Gaearon and I are both startled at this unexpected intrusion, but Hwiniol is quick to explain his presence. 

“Mistress Glasiel sent me to get you, Lord Gimli,” he breathlessly explains, “It seems that Lord Legolas has gone missing.”

“Missing?”

“Aye. We all thought him to be working on something in his office but when he didn’t show up for the noon meal, Glasiel sent Master Fimbrithil to fetch him only to find he wasn’t in the office at all, nor anywhere else we could think to look. We searched the house and the property before coming for you. Mistress Glasiel fears he went to New Imladris after something she needed for the kitchen.”

Of course he did. I should have known that the subject wasn’t as closed in his mind as it was in mine when I squelched that idea yesterday. Of course I did not say he shouldn’t go today, but since the storm is worse now than before, he knew very well what my opinion would be on the subject and if he did not, he will soon enough.

That is if something dreadful hasn’t happened to him, I cannot help thinking… I try to squash the thought before it takes root. I have the familiar feeling of fear mixed with irritation warring within me. Worry wins out as it always does, especially as I step out into the storm and see just how fearsome it is and how difficult it has become to traverse even the short distance from the forge to the house. If Legolas did make the trip to New Imladris, he may be in trouble for even he will not find this storm easy to travel in and what makes it so infuriating is that there was absolutely no good reason for it, other than he was likely ‘bored’ with staying around the house. Sometimes I swear it seems like futility to try to keep him safe and in tact, for though I have managed to get him through a war and across the sea in one piece, he seems just as determined as ever to risk life and limb over foolish notions. Once again I am reminded that this life I have volunteered for, while it is a great pleasure to me, is not for the faint of heart. 

When I do arrive to the house it is to find Mistress Glasiel staring worriedly out the window and wringing her hands. The poor lady is obviously very distraught and concerned for she hurries to tell me everything she knows. It seems that the lad hasn’t been seen by anyone since first meal, and when they did suspect he was missing, a very thorough search was made before I was sent for. 

“We did not wish to worry you unnecessarily,” she explains. “What I do not understand is how he left the premises without my noticing it. I have been in sight or hearing of both the front and back entrances all day. Had I suspected her was planning to leave, I would have insisted he talk to you first.”

“Probably he already knew that, which is why he most likely slipped out the office window instead of leaving through the more traditional route,” I tell her. “You must not blame yourself for this is hardly the first time such a thing has occurred. I am certain he knew what my answer would be were he to mention his plans to me, so he thought it a better idea to sneak away without a word to anyone who might interfere with his intentions.. If he suspected ye might alert me that would explain the unorthodox method of exiting. Most likely the plan has been brewing since we had words about it yesterday.”

“Such a risk, for a few trifles,” she states, shaking her head.

“Aye, he seems to think he is impervious to danger, in spite of my best efforts to convince him otherwise,” I explain.

“Well it will not do!” she says rather vehemently. When I look surprised at her tone, she continues to explain herself. “The bitter consequences of ignoring the sea longing are nothing to be trifled with. He should not expect that the effects of over one hundred years of dealing with it will be negated in a few short months. I have never heard of any other suffering with it for so long and that child is already far too thin without skipping meals to go gallivanting about in such abhorrent weather. Forgive me for saying so, but it is the height of foolishness to take such a risk for no good reason.”

I am surprised at her forcefulness and suspect that there may be more behind her words than she has revealed so far. In spite of my own fears I try to console her.

“If it helps, he has travelled in worse weather than this and come out of plenty of scrapes before without too much damage,” I tell her. I do not mention other times I can think of when he has had calls that were too close for comfort. She is obviously distressed enough without my telling such tales. Again I sense there is more to her concerns than she is letting on for she looks as if she would like to tell me something. I raise an eyebrow questioningly and she sighs and then obviously makes a decision to confide in me.

“You do not know how it was that Aerlinn and I came to Aman,” she begins. When I encourage her to go on she tells me an abbreviated version of her life story. Glasiel’s sister and Aerlinn’s mother had arrived on the island with the two of them a little less than a thousand years ago when Aerlinn had been but a tiny elfling. It seems that that lady had been struck with sea longing thirty years or so before they had sailed, but her husband had been a warrior and felt he could not leave his commission to come to the west, even for his own beloved wife. The idea to have a child came to them to serve as a distraction for her. The hope was that if she were involved in caring for a baby, her suffering would be eased and for a time it had worked. The trouble came when Aerlinn’s father had been killed in battle. 

“I thought we would lose her for certain, then,” Glasiel tells me, “for the grief was hard for my poor sister. In a last ditch effort to save her I decided to sail West with her and her little daughter. We hoped she would improve once the sea longing was gone from her, and she did improve a little at first.”

She goes on to tell me about a few months later when her sister took a fall from a horse, breaking a bone in the process. The lady wasn’t found until she had lain alone in the forest for most of a day and when they did find her she was weak and feverish. Her natural healing process had not returned yet and the consequences were that she never did recover. The lingering effects of the sea longing, the grief at the loss of her husband along with the injury she had managed to obtain was too much for her to overcome.   
“Even her own daughter was not enough to keep her here, Lord Gimli,” Glasiel tells me, her eyes brimming now. “Even though we had made it to the undying lands, my dear sister faded before our eyes, leaving me with her only child to raise on my own.”

I reach out to pat her hand comfortingly, but at the same time I cannot help thinking I might rather have heard this story at another time. She must see the trepidation in my face for she apologizes for telling me this and assures me she wasn’t trying to make a comparison, but just to explain why she was so worried and upset. That may be so, but still her words are haunting. The after effects of the sea longing are nothing to make light of. Even Lord Elrond has no idea how long Legolas might still be effected, for even he has never met someone who fought it for so long, which is exactly why we’ve agreed to err on the side of caution, despite my elfling’s best efforts to be as careless as possible.   
Looking out the window myself, I can see that the storm is so bad that searching for him now would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, and yet leaving him out there doesn’t feel like a viable option either. I am about to suggest that we begin gathering some supplies to at least begin a search, when I see the glow of a lantern in the distance. Master Fimbrithil has been walking the grounds again and this time it seems he has been successful, for I can see he has one slim arm grasped tightly in his free hand as he leads his reluctant charge to the door. 

As soon as the door opens, Glasiel pounces, swiftly taking the packages that are in Legolas’ hands and scolding briskly the whole time. I quickly grab the arm that Fimbrithil releases and drag the lad close to the fire, for he is wet through and shivering. Fimbrithil brings blankets as I rub icy hands between my own larger, warmer ones and Mistress Glasiel returns with a steaming mug of tea which I help to steady at first until the shivering becomes more under control. It is not until Fimbrithil has gone to tell the others that there is no longer need to worry, and Glasiel is refilling the mug that I finally say the words I have said countless times before.

“What in the world were ye thinking, Lamb?”

 

XXXX  
I concentrate on inhaling the aromas of the sweet tea that Glasiel has handed me and try to decide how best to answer Gimli’s question.

The obvious answer would be ‘I wasn’t thinking’ but I do not believe that would be a welcome response and I suspect that I am already in danger of feeling rather more than the sharp edge of his tongue. Worry and anger are close companions where Gimli is concerned, especially when he believes I have gone against his explicit orders of yesterday that there was no need for anyone to go out into such foul weather. Perhaps I could remind him that his order was really more of a suggestion. He did not actually forbid me to go.  
I risk a quick look up at Gimli through my eyelashes and decide I am not quite that desperate yet, and while Glasiel remains with us I am in no immediate danger of feeling the full force of Gimli’s displeasure.

Instead I search my increasingly blank mind for a better explanation for my decision.

When I set my mind to make the journey to New Imladris last evening I had hoped that the weather would not close in again. I was disappointed to find the sky full of threatening clouds when I pushed up the window and climbed out into the empty garden this morning. It was plain even to me, who has no particular knowledge of weather lore here on Tol Eressëa that we were in for another blizzard. Perhaps I could persuade Gimli that I thought the weather would improve rather than deteriorate and then blame my mistake on my not yet being familiar with the weather patterns here on the island. For a moment I think I have hit upon a good answer to Gimli’s question, but then I remember that Gimli was there when Fimbrethil and Forodren were discussing the need for more bedding for the cattle and goats because of the weather closing in. He will not have forgotten that for he asked whether we would struggle with milk and cheese because of the cold. Aulë’s Balls!

Of course I had no intention of being gone for such a time as my absence would have been noted but the journey had not exactly gone as planned. Well I admit it was not exactly planned at all. I had merely decided I would go and that was that.

It had come as an unpleasant surprise to me that I had found the going over the snow as difficult as I did. I cannot remember ever finding a trip in winter so hard. The winters in Greenwood the Great were severe and I was accustomed to coping with the weather but today I found myself struggling not on the way out of the valley, which was not too difficult, but the return trip was another matter. I even managed to keep my arrival in New Imladris quiet. I had made certain that I avoided the main part of the house I did not wish to encounter any of Elrond’s immediate household. I can imagine just what Celebrian or Erestor would have to say if they had found me wandering their halls covered in snow and wet through. Instead I made straight for the kitchen and requisitioned all of the items that Glasiel had said we were running short of or out of all together like the candied fruits and honey.

The staff in the Imladris kitchen was keen for me to remain with them because of the worsening weather but I was determined to come home. Can you imagine what the response would have been had I walked into the main house and announced my presence I would never have heard the end of it so I started out for the valley as soon as my packages had been properly wrapped against the weather.

It was a mistake. Of course I am not about to admit that to anyone else, but the trip back was very hard. Somehow the cold and wet seemed to sink into my very being. The wind whipped up the snow making visibility difficult and I slipped and fell at least three times. I do not think I had quite appreciated how much my bout of sea longing had affected my health. Oh do not get me wrong, I have heard Lord Elrond speak of it on far too many occasions, warning me that I was still not fully recovered and that I must take care but I had taken little notice of it for I felt well enough. It pains me to say so but I should have listened to his advice for long before I reached the crest of the hills that separates my home from the land of New Imladris I was cold, wet, and exhausted. I was shivering by the time I saw the lights of the house. Mistress Glasiel must have put a lamp in every window and I was relieved to see them calling me home. I was even more relieved to see Fimbrethil coming towards me and offering me his strong arm to help me into the house. Of course I would rather not have had to face the welcoming committee assembled in the kitchen but you cannot have everything and at least I have got the candied fruit for Gimli’s bread even if they are accompanied by a great deal of trouble for me.

“Here Lord Legolas let me help you out of those wet boots”

Glasiel distracts my thoughts by fussing over me tugging off my boots and insisting on rubbing my hair with a warmed towel. I let her do as she pleases because while she is doing so I have more time to come up with an answer for Gimli who is still glaring at me from the other side of the fire place.

The rest of our small household have now entered the kitchen and are clustering around me as well and I feel a hint of guilt for the fact that they have been out in the snow searching for their errant lord rather than warm and dry in the house. Fimbrethil was almost as wet as I was when he found me coming up through the building area at the north of the house. I wondered how he would react. Had I been back in Ithilien or Eryn Lasgalen any member of my household or that of my father would not have thought twice about giving me a thundering scolding. He looked as if he was thinking about it but he contented himself with hauling me back into the house and seemed more relieved than angry with me.

For a brief moment or two I fantasise about answering Gimli’s question with a statement that as Lord of this land I am free to come and go as I please. But almost as soon as I imagine myself standing up and doing so, I recall the last time I did my best to assert my position and ended up instead in a very embarrassing ‘position’ over my dwarf’s lap. Some think I am slow to learn, but I am not so dim as to need that particular lesson being taught me twice!  
Instead I concentrate on coming up with a reasonable story as to why I decided to go to New Imladris in the first place. I can hardly tell the truth without spoiling everything and telling Gimli I went because I was bored is akin to committing suicide so there has to be a better explanation than that. If only I can think of one...

The significant clearing of a dwarven throat serves to remind me that Gimli’s patience is not endless.

When I risk a quick look in his direction I am shocked to see his head apparently wreathed in steam. I have heard of such a phenomenon before but never seen it. I believe the Hobbits used to comment on Gandalf ‘having steam coming out of his ears’ when he lost patience with them on occasion. Now it appears that Gimli is similarly afflicted. I hardly need his rather pointed, “I’m still waiting laddie” to tell me time is running short for me to offer some sort of explanation.

I am saved from immediate annihilation by Fimbrethil who suggests that perhaps we should change out of our wet clothing and when I look up I realise a little belatedly that the steam is not coming out of Gimli’s ears but from my wet cloak which is hanging just behind him. That is some small comfort I suppose although Gimli’s expression is such that I suspect that steaming ears are the least of my current problems.

Over the yeni I have spent a great deal of time learning about military tactics and when to fight and when to run. Now is the time for retreat I think, and Fimbrethil’s suggestion that I need to change into dry clothing gives me an excuse to retreat from the field in some semblance of good order. No doubt Gimli will follow me but at least when I am cornered it is likely that we will be in a rather less public place than the kitchen so I offer my seneschal a beaming smile and surge to my feet. I have a good prospect for escape for I am faster than Gimli even though dwarves are good sprinters, and if I get a head start I might actually make it to my bed chamber before he catches up with me.  
Of course dwarves are also very sneaky for a hand snakes out and grabs my arm even as I hurry to get past his chair. Gimli heaves himself upwards never letting go of my arm and nods at Fimbrethil.

“An excellent suggestion, Master Fimbrethil. I will accompany Lord Legolas and then I can bring his damp clothes down to the laundry where they can be dried off while he has a hot bath. Aye and my thanks to you all for your efforts today we are both very grateful, are we not lamb?”

I have little choice but to answer in the affirmative and to be fair I am grateful for everyone’s care of me, although I suspect grateful will not be a word that will come to mind once Gimli gets me alone. Still I smile and say what is right then with Gimli close behind me I make for my bedchamber.

Gimli does not speak again until the door to this room is closed behind us when he repeats his question with the addition of a sharp, “And enough of this shilly-shallying! Tell me now whatever possessed ye to go out in such a storm?”  
I can hear the concern in his voice and this only adds to my guilt.

 

“I am sorry” I mutter.

“Aye, I can see that, but the doesn’a answer the question now does it? And since I know that despite present circumstances ye are not a complete fool it merely adds to my worry as to why ye would attempt such a daft stunt for the sake of picking up a few foodstuffs for the kitchen. Surely ye could live without honey for a day or two until the weather turned.”

I almost cheer when Gimli mentions honey; it is the perfect reason for my ill-fated trip. I give him my very best doleful elfling look as I answer.   
“The truth is Gimli that I couldn’t. I mean,” I hurry to explain, “You know I can’t abide porridge without honey and Mistress Glasiel seems to think I should eat the stuff every morning and I don’t like to upset her by telling her I don’t like it, so I thought I would just slip over to New Imladris and bring back a crock or two. I really didn’t think the weather would deteriorate as much as it did and I know I was wrong but it seemed such a simple idea at the time and a good excuse to get out of the house for a short time.” I am babbling and have to make a concerted effort to slow down, “I swear I would not have gone had I known how much trouble it would have caused everyone or how tiring I would find it.”

Gimli does not look mollified by my words; at least not until I mention how tired I now am. It is wrong of me I know but appealing to his ‘mothering’ instincts usually works and today seems to be no exception.

“Tis no wonder ye are tired, ye foolish child, aye and still standing here in wet clothes as well. Ye will be getting a cold or worse.”

He hustles me across the room towards the bathing chamber scolding me all the way about my foolish disregard for my health . I am just breathing a sigh of relief when he hauls back and gives me an almighty smack on the seat of my very wet leggings.

I give a yelp as he repeats the process not once but four times more, preventing my escape by holding me firmly by the arm as he takes aim.

“Now,” he says as he finally releases me, “into the bath with ye, and if you ever get the urge to go wandering through a blizzard after honey again I’ll make ye so sore you won’t be able to sit for a week. Do I make myself plain?”

Still rubbing at my stinging posterior, I sniff and nod, knowing I have escaped quite lightly given Gimli’s concern for my safety.

“And another thing,” he adds as if suddenly thinking of something else, “Ye are not to leave the house without my say so for the rest of this week, and I’ll hear no argument, about it. I have promised Gaearon that he and I will work the forge for the next few days but do not think ye will be free to sneak out again without my knowing for I will tell both Master Fimbrethil and Mistress Glasiel that ye are under orders to stay indoors until I say otherwise.” 

I had opened my mouth to complain at this additional punishment, but close it again as I realise that being kept indoors over the next few days will allow me to work on my gift for Gimli in peace knowing he is out at the forge. Instead I meekly accept his strictures telling him I understand and will do as he says even if I think that keeping me confined is a trifle harsh. After all it will not do to be too obedient; it will only make him more suspicious.

Then I hurry to close the bathing chamber on him before he can add any further swats to my already smarting backside for my cheek!

xxxx

I sigh and search deep down for a final reserve of patience before repeating the question I’ve already asked a dozen times. It is not like the lad not to have some sort of excuse in mind even if it is a rather flimsy one, so I am beginning to wonder if I am going to have to take more drastic measures to loosen his tongue before all is said and done. Instead of an answer, I get an apology for my efforts.

“I’m sorry,” Legolas murmurs. 

I do not doubt that, for I am certain he did not wish to worry everyone or to have the entire household have to drop everything they were doing to come to his aid. No doubt having to face everyone after having pulled such a foolish stunt was not an easy thing either. If there was any doubt in anyone’s mind about the true nature of our relationship, it is unlikely there will be now after the events of today and our conversation- or rather lack of it- in the kitchen. 

I am also quite sure he is sorry at having been caught out, for clearly the plan was to arrive safely back home without his absence ever being noticed in the first place. For a brief moment I wonder how many times he has done such things without having been caught. It must be often enough to make the odds worth the risk and that is a frightening thought considering how often he is found out. I do not pursue that line of thought for there are times when it is just easier not to know. Still I believe his regret is real. However I had not been asking about his remorse. Why he felt it necessary to risk his neck over an armful of food items is beyond my comprehension, so I seek an answer one more time.   
“Aye, I can see that,” I tell him, “but that doesn’a answer the question now does it? And since I know that despite present circumstances ye are not a complete fool it merely adds to my worry as to why ye would attempt such a daft stunt for the sake of picking up a few foodstuffs for the kitchen. Surely ye could live without honey for a day or two until the weather turned.”

Perhaps I should not say so, but his reply strikes me as so amusing that I have to call on my many years of experience at maintaining a stern expression. I have to admit that my original fear and anger begins to slip away as I struggle to keep a straight face in the face of his tragic tale of great bowls full of horribly bland porridge having to be endured without the saving grace of honey. Enormous mournful eyes accompany this unhappy account, and I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I am being played. He knows he can soften me by tugging at my heartstrings or appealing to my sense of humor and is not too proud to use such tactics to his benefit. I have to force myself to frown further to try to reign in the ridiculous desire to break into peals of laughter at the speed in which he spills this story, as if he doesn’t say it quickly enough he might forget what he was going to say. Likely this is the case, for I am sure I am hearing a very recently fabricated tale, probably because the true reason is he just took a notion to go out and didn’t think further than that until he found himself in a difficult situation. I can only imagine how he felt when he found himself having to decide to stay in New Imladris and face Erestor or Elrond or to brave the storm knowing he would likely be missed by the time he arrived home. He had managed to get himself into an awkward predicament for certain. He ends this rather lengthy bit of prattle with an apologetic plea. 

“I swear I would not have gone had I known how much trouble it would have caused everyone or how tiring I would find it.”

I believe this statement to be true at least. He is not the sort to intentionally try to cause trouble for others, even if it does end up that way on occasion. As far as being tired there is no doubt about that either. He looks wrecked and no wonder considering the strength of the blizzard. Just moving between the forge and the house was difficult enough so I cannot imagine spending half a day fighting such an intense storm. The desire to laugh is suddenly gone again when I realize he is looking quite rough around the edges standing there still shivering and soaked to the bone. I suddenly recall Mistress Glasiel’s sad story and remember that such careless disregard for his health must never be thought of as something to be tolerated. We did not come this far to have all of our progress ruined, and a set back in his recovery is not acceptable especially over such a foolish notion.

I think I manage to make my thoughts on that plain enough, even though it is hardly the most severe lesson he’s ever endured. In fact I’m sure he realizes he has gotten of quite easily, but given my concern over his obvious exhaustion, it seems prudent to be cautious. He would best benefit from a quiet afternoon, I think, or even a quiet day or two. It is then I realize he has actually solved a problem for me with his misguided adventure. I had been wondering how I was going to keep him away from the forge while Gaearon and I worked on the sleigh, and now I have been provided an answer. Perhaps it is wrong to take advantage of the situation for my own agenda, but keeping him confined to the house for the rest of the week is hardly cruel or harsh and is in fact quite a fitting penalty now that I think about it. If it suits my purpose in other ways, then that can be seen as just a side benefit as far as I am concerned. 

He takes the news with only a little grumbling even though I inform him that Mistress Glasiel and Master Fimbrethil will be informed that he is under my orders to stay indoors until further notice. I am surprised he doesn’t at least try to argue about that, but perhaps he feels it is too late to pretend things are different than they are now anyway. For forms sake he gives one final complaint before shutting the bathing chamber door between us even as I call through the door for him to pass me his wet clothes so they can be taken to the laundry. A few seconds later the door opens just enough for the wet bundle to be pushed into my arms. 

As I pass by the kitchen on my way to the laundry, I find Aerlinn and Mistress Glasiel hard at work once again, no doubt having to hurry to catch up after they were interrupted in their tasks earlier this afternoon. Glasiel looks up at her niece and inclines her head toward me, which Aerlinn interprets as a signal that she should drop a quick curtsey and take my dripping bundle from me. After Aerlinn leaves, I notice that Glasiel has opened the bundles from New Imladris and is sorting through them with her mouth set in a grim line. She still looks more than a little perturbed and I am about to speak to try to smooth her ruffled feathers when I notice what it is she is unpacking. I cannot help the snort of laughter that escapes my throat, but cut if off quickly when she looks at me askance. Obviously she sees nothing funny about the situation, so I try to share the reason for my amusement.

“If he had to go out on such a foolhardy mission, at least he did so to some purpose,” I explain. “He managed to bring back just the things we needed for the special fruit bread and honey as well.”

She clearly does not see the comical side to this for she only shakes her head and replies, “Had I known he would be so reckless as to go off half cocked for such trivial items, he would never have heard from me that we were out of them! Such careless disregard for his health and safety is just…well perhaps it is not my place to say so, but it is just outrageous.”

“Aye, I agree, but do not fret so,” I attempt to soothe her, “I believe I’ve made my thoughts plain about that and we should have no trouble for the rest of the week at least.”  
It is then that I explain about Legolas being confined to the house until I say otherwise and that I would like her and Master Fimbrethil’s support in enforcing this since I will not be in the house to do it during the day. She nods in approval, but I can see a glimmer of doubt in her eyes. After all Legolas managed to leave without anyone being the wiser today, so why should the rest of the week be any different? 

“I’ll nail the windows shut if I have to,” I tell her and this time she does offer a brief smile before agreeing to keep me informed of the goings on in the house. As I am turning to head back upstairs, she presses a steaming mug of broth into my hand asking me to bring it to Legolas if I am going back up. 

“He missed the noon meal and he hasn’t an ounce of extra flesh as it is,” she explains. I thank her and realize once again that we are fortunate to have found a housekeeper who is not only a good and capable worker, but a very caring lady as well.

I find Legolas just outside his bedchamber door, looking still a bit haggard, though greatly improved from earlier. 

“Where exactly do ye think ye’re going, Laddie?” I inquire, taking a firm hold of his arm.

“My office?” He guesses. “I have a project to finish there.”

“I think not, Lamb. Ye’ve had enough activity for one day I should think. Besides I wish to talk to ye about something.” I say.

“Haven’t we talked already?” he asks a little apprehensively, while turning sad eyes on me just in case they are needed.

I cannot help chuckling at this question. “Just talk this time Lad, about the design of the house. And if I were you, I’d save the doe eyes for Mistress Glasiel. She’s none to pleased with ye just at the moment.”

“What will I say to her?” He asks, looking slightly alarmed.

“Ye can start by drinking this broth she sent, and then if I were you, I’d offer a sincere apology,” I advise. “ Beyond that, just bat your eyes and smile forlornly and she’ll be back under your spell in no time. Ye’ve always been able to charm the ladies, a little flirting goes a long way as you well know by now.”

“I do not flirt, Gimli!” he informs me, while flushing an interesting shade of pink.

“Aye you do,” I chuckle teasingly, but relent when I notice his sincere dismay. “Perhaps not on purpose, “ I amend, “but it serves the same purpose anyhow.”

He scowls at me for a moment, but lets it drop, changing the subject instead.

“You wished to talk about house designs?” he asks.

“I want to discuss something about windows,” I say, taking him by the elbow and guiding him back into the bedchamber. 

“Windows?”

“Aye, Lamb, and doors, and the difference between the two.” He gives me a sheepish glance, but just sits on the edge of the bed without saying a word. There is hardly anything he can say considering the circumstances so I continue.

“This house has been designed to have plenty of windows. I know how ye enjoy the sunlight so when drawing the plans I kept that in mind. Besides looking attractive, they have a lot of practical value as well, for they can be opened in pleasant weather to let in nice fresh air or a cool breeze on a hot day. In contrast they can be closed against inclement weather and keep the room nice and comfortable in winter.” I continue to explain, as he watches me through narrowed eyes, no doubt having a good idea where this is going. “ Now I’ll admit it is possible to use them as an exit in certain circumstances, for instance in case of a fire, or a cave in, or perhaps a pack of orc on the other side of the door, but in most cases a door is the better choice. You can just go straight through a door without ducking, ye see, since it was designed for just such a purpose. So if ye find yourself starting to climb through a window, that is a very good clue that ye need to rethink your plan, for as long as I am living with ye, using windows to leave the house is not acceptable except in extreme circumstances. Wishing to escape the house undetected is not one of them. Do ye see what I’m saying here Lamb?”

“If I leave the house via the window again there had better be orc about?” He surmises.

“Ye’re a bright, Lad!” I pronounce cheerfully. I wink at him and he smiles, in spite of trying to look offended. Next I take the empty mug from his hands and kiss his brow before patting the pillow to indicate that he should lie down. “Now then, ye’ve had a hard day and ye look shattered. Rest for a while and I’ll wake ye in time for dinner.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the clumsy Khuzdul in this chapter. Tolkien didn't give us much to work with so I've borrowed some 'gamers' Khuzdul for this story.   
> Beth

I do not generally like being confined in anyway but the last few days, have been filled with activity and they have also been productive so I cannot say that I have been bored or had much time to feel hard done by. My unscheduled ‘visit’ to New Imladris worked out quite well in the end. Yes Gimli insisted that I remain within the confines of the house but there has been so much to do that I have actually been grateful for the time inside. 

That is not to say that I have not been beyond the walls of the house at all. I have actually managed to get to the stables and the stock barns because with Gaearon working with Gimli on some sort of special project I volunteered to help Forodren with cleaning up after the animals and even got to assist Canthui when she came to milk the cows and goats. I think both Forodren and Canthui were surprised that I had any sort of knowledge of stock care or that I would be prepared to ‘get my hands dirty’ but I have always liked working with animals and Adar encouraged me to learn about as much as I could about the practicalities of running a household when I was younger. He said it would hold me in good stead in understanding exactly what I was asking others to do and so it has proved.

But of course much of my time has been in preparing for Gimli’s birthday. The workroom is now ready, and besides all the basic equipment Gimli will need, we have been able to furnish one end of the room with two comfortable chairs and a small table so that Gimli may take his ease when he wishes to. Aerlinn has made a rag rug to sit between the chairs which adds a hint of colour to the room, for she has chosen rich reds, and russet shades to make it with. On the high window sills she and Canthui have put pewter and copper bowls filled with fir cones and dried berries. I am not sure Gimli will appreciate such ‘prettiness’ in his work area but it does make the room look good. 

I hope Gimli will forgive me for I have purloined a few of his instruments, trivets, weights and bowls that he uses when he works on jewellery. They were all still packed up in the cellars for he has had no call to use them since we arrived here and I wanted to place them on the work benches to show him what we intended the room to be used for.  
Fimbrethil has also mounted a large lamp in the roof, which can be brought down from the high ceiling for when Gimli needs more light for his fine work. All is in readiness for Gimli’s arrival in the morning and on one of the workbenches there is a pile of wrapped presents awaiting him as well. Every member of the staff has provided a gift, which makes me very happy I hope he will be pleased as well.

The very last thing I did before leaving the workroom tonight was to hang a sign on the door in both elvish and Khuzdul which proclaims the room as Gimli’s own special domain and offers blessings on all who work there. I hope he will like it. I am sure he will.

All is in readiness and without Gimli being any the wiser as to what has been going on. His work at the forge has proved a real boon in helping us prepare everything in secret. The ribbon curtain is already hidden under my bed and I will hang it as soon as I am sure Gimli is fast asleep tonight.

Just before Gimli and Gaearon came in this evening, I took one last opportunity to talk to Mistress Glasiel about the food for tomorrow. She has already made the cake and dyed the eggs in readiness for first meal and has said she will get up early to prepare the fruit bread for break of fast, and that all was in readiness. She has even managed to get some of his beer brewed in time so we can toast him in his own home brewed ale.

I have still not worked my way back into my housekeeper’s good graces after my going off into the snow for as she called it ‘no valid reason’. I thought she might have understood my determination to get the candied fruits but she did not and it was not until I spoke to Gimli that I understood the reason behind her reluctance to forgive me. It must have been very hard to see someone succumb to fading through grief and of course I realise I am fortunate that she cares enough about me that she was worried about my absence, but her disapproving looks and sighs make me feel guilty. Glasiel is making good use of my guilty feelings by ensuring that I eat everything that she puts in front of me, as I need according to her ‘to put some meat on my bones’. Such a saying must have come from the Hobbits for I am sure it is not elvish in origin, Whatever it is, I have been forced into consuming all kinds of foodstuffs, many of them by no means favourites of mine, all in the vain hope that Glasiel will forgive me for frightening her earlier in the week.  
Gimli finds Glasiel’s fussing very amusing and refuses to intervene saying I must work on regaining her trust on my own. I hope that tomorrow’s celebrations will prove to be a turning point and then I can go back to eating what I choose rather than what is considered good for me.

Gimli seems very happy and relaxed tonight. He and Gaearon have apparently all but finished on what they are working on in the smithy and he has spent much of the evening after we retired to our sitting room humming contentedly to himself and puffing on his pipe. I did offer to read to him but he said he was happy just to enjoy my company so I have spent the night sitting on the floor my head against his knee as he lets one hand run down my unbraided hair. To other eyes it may seem strange but I believe we both gain comfort from his action. He knows I am nearby and safe and I feel his love and caring in a way that is uniquely his.

As he finally taps out his pipe and begins to bank the fire saying it is time we were in bed I find myself suddenly nervous. What if he does not like all the things we have prepared for him on the morrow? What if he has chosen to ignore his special anniversary because he no longer wishes to mark the years? Some of my concern must show in my face for Gimli asks what is amiss?

“Nothing,” I hasten to reassure him, I cast around for an excuse and say, “I am merely glad to think that tomorrow will mark my last day of being trapped inside.”  
Gimli seems unconvinced.

“Hmm! Well we will see about that Lamb. Ye are looking a trifle peaky still. Maybe a few more days inside will do ye no harm.”

“I am tired of being inside, and away from you,” I return. Now Gimli is giving me that look of his and I add with a huff, “Can I not come out and spend some time in the forge with you tomorrow. Gaearon has seen far more of you this last week than I have.”

Gimli looks nonplussed for a moment at this request then he rallies and points out to me that they are working on putting to rights the damage I did to the sleigh.   
“It has turned out to be far more work than we originally thought” he adds “and I do not intend to reward your poor conduct over that incident by allowing you to come and disturb our concentration with your chatter. Ye will stay away from the forge until I say otherwise.”

I pout but nod agreement, feeling a little put out that my friend seems to enjoy Gaearon’s company to mine at the moment. But then Gimli pulls my head down so he may kiss my brow in his usual goodnight ritual and he pats my cheek. 

“Only a day or two more Lamb and I will be happy to be inside with a roaring fire and your company then, and perhaps we can start reading that history book Erestor sent to us a while back. I would like to hear more of the First Age, and no one reads aloud as well as you do.” 

I am mollified and we go to our rest on good terms. 

I lay awake waiting until I hear the sounds of Gimli’s steady breathing and know that he is asleep then quietly hang the ribbon curtain between his room and the dressing area that connects Gimli’s bedchamber with mine, for it is his invariable custom to check on me as soon as he wakes. And you may be sure that I am going to be up and ready in good time to be there to wish him a happy birthing day.

I hardly sleep for I fear I will wake too late. As it is I am up, bathed, and dressed long before the normal time. Gimli of course does not need the sun to rise at the appropriate time for he is accustomed to life underground where the suns turning is not the main way of telling time. I am as nervous as a kitten as I wait for him to rouse. My hands are clammy, my breath is coming in short bursts, and I fear I may explode before Gimli wakes but finally he begins to rouse and I can contain myself no longer and I hurry to his bedside and wish him a happy birth day.

“Eh?”

I repeat my greeting, adding, “It is the anniversary of your birth Gimli. I wanted to be the first to give you my greetings and blessings. You have not forgotten have you?”  
His deep bass chuckles fill the room, “No lamb I have not forgotten, and I thank you for your good wishes.” He looks past me at the curtain of ribbons and I can see that he is pleased I have remembered the custom.

I hand him his padded and quilted gown and find his slippers as he climbs out of bed, and follow him as he walks through the ribbons gathering up the white ones and throwing them into the fire as custom dictates. Gimli then disappears into the bathing chamber and I am left to wait, which I do with increasing anxiety, as he seems to take an eternity to dress. Finally he appears and I have to admit to being impressed by his appearance. He has donned his best leather jerkin and a fine red wool shirt and his hair and beard are brushed and braided in the most ornate style.

I have kept one gold ribbon back for myself to use but hesitate to tie it and Gimli seeing my hesitation encourages me to thread it into his main braid.  
“For ye are as much as a son to me as I am ever going to have, or would wish for. Thank ye Lamb for taking the time to greet me so this special morn.”  
“There is more,” I urge as we make our way downstairs.

“More? What more do I need than your company and love lad?”

“We … I … I wanted, we wished … “ I decide to give up on words and hustle him towards the kitchen and as the door swings open the first thing that greets us is the sweet smell of fruited bread freshly baked.

“Gelir Edinor!” everyone calls out as we enter and I see that all of our household are assembled in the kitchen and everyone is wearing their best clothes. On the table are the red eggs and the fruited bread and Mistress Glasiel immediately demands to know what type of pancake Gimli would like to break his fast on his special day. I am relieved when my friend opts for apple and walnut and then settles at the table to wait, while the food is prepared.

The meal is a lively one; there is much laughter and chafing, as Gimli demands to know how the household got to know of his birthday. And although the meal is excellent I find my appetite to be blunted as my anxiety over the workroom grows and I can hardly wait for everyone to finish eating before I speak up.

Finally all is done and I clear my throat and announce. “Elvellon, on this your special day, and because it is the first opportunity we,” I indicate all of us in the kitchen, “have had to show you how much we appreciate your efforts in making our lives here more comfortable. Aye and how much we care for you, Gimli son of Gloin, and how much I personally love you, Edwen Ada, we have made something for you, something I, that is all of us hope you will like. Come.”

I draw Gimli to his feet and we all troop off through the doors that lead to the laundry, then stand back at the entrance to the work room and wait for Gimli to read the words on the door. I find I can scarcely breath as I wait for him to open the door and step inside. The fire has been set and the lanterns lit, the light dances off the copper and pewter, behind me Mistress Glasiel, Master Fimbrethil and the others crowd in to await Gimli’s verdict on our efforts.

There is a period of silence and I begin to wonder if I was wrong to presume Gimli would like this work space then I see his smile begin to grow and he claps his hand as he takes in all our efforts. 

“Well I am blessed. So much work,” his hand runs down the slate insert in the table, “so much care. I thank ye, all of ye for this gift. It is entirely unexpected and yet so very welcome. I can foresee some long happy hours here.” 

He bows in that unique way he has and we all hurry to give him our felicitations on his special day and those who have not already done so, tie their ribbons into his braids and beard and while I can see he is blushing at all the attention I can also tell he is very pleased.

Master Fimbrethil then offers a blessing on behalf of all the staff and points to where the gifts are waiting and we all enjoy watching our very special dwarf unwrap, exclaim and take delight in all the presents that have been given him. It is a perfect start to the day and when Gimli decrees that we are all to share our evening meal not even Mistress Glasiel objects. As they drift off to their duties I am left with my beloved guardian and when he opens his arms to me I hurry to fall into them relieved, happy and contented to bask in his approval as we sit together before the fire and Gimli takes a draw on his first ale of the day.

 

XXXXX

Today is an important date; one that I have marked on my calendar as special and unique over other days since we’ve arrived here on the lonely Island. Today is “sampling day.” It is the first day that it is possible to test out the beer that has been has been brewing in our cellar since I received the secret recipe from my nephew, Greirr. It was a difficult thing to achieve his letter told me and I have very much been looking forward to the chance to try it to see if it would come out anywhere nearly as good as the original. This momentous occasion happened to coincide with my first birthday this side of the sea. Two hundred and sixty three years is well into old age for a battle weary dwarf, but I still feel there will be many more to come before I take my final rest as I have been promised long life here. 

Today I feel especially hale and happy sitting across the small table from my friend here in the lovely room that has been carefully and thoughtfully remodelled into a workroom for fine crafting projects. Everything has been arranged with my comfort and personal tastes in mind. As I look around I notice more and more details that show that the one who designed this room obviously knew what I would like most from the colors in the rag rugs and furniture, to the runes that were part of the sigil from Aglarond that have been carved and etched into the many gifts that have given to me this day. Of course there is only one here who knows me so well and that one is also the one sitting across from me, anxiously watching to make certain that I enjoy my first taste of the beer as well. Legolas obviously has made sure that the barrels were tapped early so that I would not have to wait until evening meal to try out the fruitage of my labours. I can see how much he wishes for my day to be perfect, so I vow to myself that I will like the beer no matter what the outcome. Even if it ends up tasting like vinegar, I will not disappoint my elfling by saying so. He has worked so diligently to please me that I fully intend to be pleased.  
Fortunately for me, I do not have to call on my acting skills, for the home brewed beer has turned out quite well for a first try. It is more than palatable-the best I’ve yet tasted here-so my smile is genuine as I take the first draw. Legolas smiles as well when he sees that I am satisfied with the results.

“Well?” he asks.

“Very nice,” I tell him. “Full bodied and creamy with a nice clean finish. Not bad for a first attempt. Shall we drink to Greirr?”

“Certainly,” he agrees, but then laughs as he realizes he has nothing to toast with. It is still morning and normally we wouldn’t drink wine or beer either one this early in the day, but this is a special occasion of course. I hand the mug over so he can try the ale too and then chuckle as he winces at the bitter taste. 

“The second one goes down easier,” I promise.

“And the third and fourth easier still, if I recall correctly,” he says knowingly, no doubt recalling other celebrations where Mistress Brynja’s played a role.

After we share the first mug, we just sit for a while in companionable silence enjoying the roaring fire that fills the room with a warm glow. I smile to myself thinking about how blessed I am here, so much more so than I ever expected. When I made this long sea journey I had no idea if I would even be allowed to set foot on the island, let alone welcomed as I was. I am one of a kind here and yet I do not feel like an outsider, especially today. My dear elfling has worked very hard to see to that by planning this commemoration of my birthday and by inveigling all of the staff to get involved. I have never been quite so touched as I was when they all crowded around me with the gold blessing ribbons. I was not surprised that Legolas remembered this dwarfish birthday tradition, but was impressed that all the others were willing to participate in it just to make me feel at home as possible on this day. 

While everyone here has been very kind, I had not expected the elves here to bother to learn of dwarfish customs since it is not likely they will ever have call to use them again once I am gone from here. Not only the ribbon ceremony, but even the correct foods were present, with the hard boiled eggs dyed red and a layered pound cake decorated with cherry jelly and powdered sugar was in evidence already waiting for after the evening meal. That Mistress Glasiel was willing to learn to make this dwarfish desert was very thoughtful of her. I had to smile when she immediately asked what sort of pancakes I liked for first meal, since this was something that my mother always did for my sister and I when we were children. Aye and continued to do for her very beloved grandson for the first ten years of his life until he moved from Erebor to the Glittering Caves and of course anytime she was with him on his birthday afterwards until he got married. No doubt Legolas recalls that family custom from the begetting day he celebrated so long ago in the Lonely Mountain. 

Very soon Glasiel appears with a tray of the hard won fruit bread lest we grow faint from hunger between the enormous breakfast and the noon meal. She gives Legolas a slightly disapproving glance and shakes her head as she sets it down on the table between us. She still is not resigned to how it was obtained and has not been shy about letting her feelings be known on the subject over the last few days. She does not say a word, but Legolas colors a bit under her censorious gaze and appeals to me when she leaves the room.

“I only wanted to make your day perfect Elvellon, but she won’t even try to understand,” he complains.

“Ye’re a good lad and a thoughtful friend,” I explain, “but had something happened to ye in that storm no amount of fruit bread would have made me feel better now would it? Likely she feels the same way that your value is higher than all the candied fruit and honey in the West.”

“I’m sorry, “ he sighs, “I only wanted a perfect birthday for you. I did not wish to upset her or you either, Gimli. You are not still angry are you?”

I chuckle and reach out to squeeze his hand. “Of course not, Lamb. Your heart, as ever, was in the right place and I trust ye’ll think things through better next time. Mistress Glasiel will see that in time as well and all will be well between you. For now lets just enjoy this time together for this has been the best birthday of my life so far.”

“Truly?” he asks, beaming with pleasure now.

“Of course, truly,” I assure him. 

“Even better than your 200th birthday celebration?”

“Aye even better than that one for while that one was special, this one was arranged by the one I care for the most and I know there was love and good wishes in every detail. I couldn’t be more pleased, if we had a thousand guests with a thousand expensive gifts.” I mean it with all my heart too. I can’t think of a thing I’d lift my finger to take just now. I can see my words have pleased my charge, though he is beginning to squirm a little uncomfortably at my heartfelt words of praise and thanks, so I go on.

“It has been a perfect morning, and I am sure the evening will prove to be just as wonderful, but I must work in the forge a bit this afternoon.” I try to break this news lightly knowing he may not like the idea, but I am so close to finishing the sleigh that I feel that I need to get it finished and locked away from prying eyes in the shed. The longer I wait the fewer excuses there will be left to keep him away. As expected he does not look happy at this idea.

“You can’t mean to work on your birthday, Gimli? It wouldn’t be right!” he objects.

“It’s only for a short while, Lad, “ I try to appease him. “I promised Gaearon that we would finish it today.”

He doesn’t look satisfied with that either. “At least let me come with you,” He demands.

This was what I was afraid of and I have to scramble to come up with a good excuse as to why he shouldn’t follow me to the forge. I do not want him to think I don’t want his company, but I do not wish to spoil the surprise at this late juncture either. He scowls at me from the other side of the table and I know I must quickly make amends before hurt feelings ruin the day. I gesture for him to come to me as I search my brain for a viable excuse. I pull him down into my lap and briefly wonder not for the first time what some others might think if they could see us just now. Such things no longer feels odd to me, though I suspect it would seem so to others' eyes, though I imagine our staff at least would not be all that surprised by now.

Patting the side of his leg I hunt for the words that will mollify him, knowing if I can not, I will just scrap the idea of working in the forge today and try to find a way to work things out another day. 

“Now Lamb, ye know its not that I don’t wish to have ye with me, but just that there is no need for both of us to go out in the cold. Ye’ve clearly been hard at work all this week and if I know ye like I think I do ye didn’t sleep five minutes last night worrying over making everything perfect for today. Am I right?”

He shrugs, effectively answering my question, so I go on.

“Why not take the time to rest up a bit for the evening or find something quiet to do? Of course if ye’re truly against me working this afternoon, I’ll give up the idea, but it will take only two hours at the most, I swear, and then we’ll have the rest of the day together.”

This does seem to satisfy him, for he graciously kisses me on the cheek and agrees that since it is my day, I should do whatever I like. After that he takes me around the room pointing out all the little details and features including a magnifying glass that has been very cleverly attached to a free standing adjustable wooden stand so that fine detailed work can be done with both hands free. Evidently Legolas found the glass among my packed things and designed and built the stand himself with the help of Master Fimbrethil who evidently is a clever woodworker as is evidenced by the pipe stand he carved for me as a gift. 

I am very impressed with the amount of work that has been done without my knowledge and begin to wonder if Gaearon’s wishing to work with me in the forge was just a ruse to get me out of the house. But when I ask about that, Legolas assures me that it was just a fortunate coincidence that he asked at just the right moment. I am pleased to know that, for I have already gotten quite comfortable working with the lad and would miss him in the forge if he were no longer interested. The rest of the morning is spent exploring all the facets of this new work space, and then Mistress Glasiel calls us to a thankfully light midday meal which is a good thing considering the great volume of fruit bread we’ve consumed and that after a very filling first meal. Afterwards I ask Gaearon to meet me at the forge as soon as I am able to change into attire more appropriate for working.  
Gaearon is already laughing at me as soon as I enter the forge and I cannot resist reaching up to give a sharp tug to the long tail of hair that he has tied behind his back. 

“Ye sneaky scoundrel,” I scold him, “ye knew about this all along and didn’t say a word all this time while I was making all my surprise plans at the same time!”

“It was difficult to keep a straight face at times,” he chuckles, “but I could hardly spoil Lord Legolas’ surprise could I?”

“I suppose not,” I admit, “ and ye did a fine job of it for I didn’t suspect a thing. And I appreciate the gesture, Lad, even if ye are a devious rascal to pull it off. The others I’ve hardly seen lately but ye’ve spent every day with me this week without letting a thing slip.”

“As I said it wasn’t easy and I’ll admit to being rather relieved that it’s out in the open now!” he tells me. “Now I just need to get through a few more days and all need for keeping secrets will be finally over.”

“We’d best work quickly then, for I wish to finish today so we can lock the sleigh into the shed for the remainder of the time. I am running out of excuses for keeping Legolas away from me while I work.”

With that we add the finishing details to the sleigh and then Gaearon carefully wraps his sleigh bells in a bit of cloth and lays them on the front seat for safekeeping. We move the sleigh back to the shed and I padlock the door before tucking the key safely in my belt pouch before returning to the house. 

I take my time getting prepared for the evening changing back into my earlier attire and retying the gold ribbons into their original places. I seek out Legolas who turns out to be next door in his own bedchamber to ask him to weave his ribbon back into my back braid. He seems pleased that I have asked him to do this, so I sit on his bed in front of him as he brushes out my hair that has grown quite long in the last few years as is the custom for elders among my people. He takes his time making me look perfect and then we go together to the dining room where the entire household has been gathered for the evening meal. 

Normally Mistress Glasiel would not countenance us sitting with the staff for the evening meal, but on this special occasion even she does not object since it was my wish that we do so. The meal is a festive one, with everyone dressed in their finest clothes and the ale being passed liberally around. I am pleased that everyone seems to enjoy it, along with the story about how my nephew managed to acquire the recipe. I even share Greirr’s letter with them and everyone laughs and tries to cajole us into sharing the story of my 200th birthday celebration and what happened at Greirr’s coming of age party. I gladly share my story, but Legolas cannot be inveigled to talk about his misadventures with the ale no matter how they plead. It is not my story to tell, so they do not hear it from me either and I in fact change the subject by inviting everyone into our sitting room even though it is a bit crowded once we’re all packed in there.

The rest of the evening is spent sharing stories and even a few songs, which grow livelier in direct proportion to the amounts of ale being consumed. In this elves are little different than dwarves I think. Eventually everyone drifts off toward their beds and I remember to thank each one for their thoughtfulness in making my day so special and memorable. If I live to experience a hundred more birthdays after this one, I still will never forget this one and the kindness shown me by our small staff, who I now count as dear friends.

Finally I am left alone with my elfling and he comes to sit at my feet and rests his head on my knee, as is our usual habit. I run one hand through his hair, loosening his braids so that the long golden strands fall forward over his shoulders. For several minutes we sit like this as I try to think of the words to say that will best convey my appreciation for everything he has done to make my day memorable and indeed for all he has done to enrich my life. Of course there are no words, so instead I settle on a Khuzdul phrase I often heard from my own father on occasions when he was especially pleased with me. Legolas has spent some time learning the dwarven language over this past winter, but I am not sure if he will understand or not, but of course I can translate the words if I need to.

“Men lananubukhs menu, SilmnenzuI,” I say-I love you, my little son. He must have studied to some purpose for he gets to his knees and hurls himself into my arms.  
“I love you too, Elvellon.”   
*******

It has been a perfect day and I am so happy that all our plans have come to fruition and that we have been able to celebrate Gimli’s special day together, and I mean not just Gimli and myself but also our staff who have become part of our extended family now.

In a few days it will be my begetting day but I care little for that fact because I have everything I could possibly wish for here and now although I admit to being a little piqued by whatever Gimli and Gaearon have been so busy working on over the last week. Perhaps tomorrow I will ask Gimli about it, but for tonight I will just enjoy his company and give thanks to the Valar for allowing us this time together here on Tol Eressëa

So I sit back and bask in his company and his love all is well with my world for my second father is with me and is happy with his life it has been a happy birthday indeed.


End file.
